A Dragon and his Tamer
by Setari
Summary: Drabbles focusing on the relationship between Charlie Weasley and Draco Malfoy. Some are fluff, some are smut, some very occassionally contain angst. All are 500 words or less.
1. Curtains

_A/N: Whenever I get writers block, I get my friends to give me one-word prompts, and write drabbles till my fingers fall off. I rather like how some of these ones (I have several other sets of drabbles focusing on different characters/pairings) turned out, so I thought I'd post them all on here, just because I can._

_So, a warning: These are all written when I'm in a creative or emotional slump, so they're likely to be excessively sweet and/or kinda crap._

_Word count: 485_

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><p>When Blaise and Theodore walked into the Slytherin common room, they immediately sensed something off. It was Theo who first realized what it was. The curtains to Draco's four-poster were pulled shut. Now this, in itself, was nothing out of the ordinary, but what was odd was the numerous privacy wards around them. Silencing charms, locking spells, and a very strong impervious were woven into the curtains.<p>

The two Slytherin boys exchanged looks. It was no mystery what was going on behind those curtains, they knew. What was surprising was that it was Draco's bed. Blaise and Theo both, though Blaise more so, had been rather promiscuous since the beginning of their sixth year, but Draco had never shown anything more than a passing interest in girls.

It was with an air of mild amusement that the two of them slipped into their own beds. Blaise, out of sheer curiosity, set several alert spells over the vicinity around Draco's bed. The moment someone left that bed, Blaise would know. He wanted to know who Draco's partner was. It certainly wasn't Pansy. She had been complaining about Draco's early disappearance from the common room all evening, and there wasn't another girl that Draco had ever shown even a mild interest in.

Blaise was woken early the next morning when the wards he'd set around Draco's bed sent a tingle through his skin. He had left his curtains open deliberately, and peeked his eyes open just a slit. However, a moment later, they flew wide in shock. Standing with his bare back to him, clad only in leather trousers, was a man – a _man_ – with brilliantly red hair, a mass of dark freckles over his broad shoulders, several burn scars decorating his flesh, and a tattoo of an Imperial Chinese Dragon on his shoulder blade. Blaise didn't need to be a genius, nor the resourceful Slytherin that he was, to recognize a Weasley when he saw one.

The Weasley murmured something affectionate to Draco, and leaned over to give him a very steamy kiss. Blaise saw Draco's hand slide into the Weasley's short hair and tug viciously. The Weasley pulled back with a soft snarl. "Draco- stop, I've got to go. Work."

"Fine." Draco sounded petulant and childish, and to Blaise's surprise, he saw a fond smile on the Weasley's face as he turned to pluck his shirt from the end of the bed. Draco stretched out decadently, the duvet just barely keeping him decent, and rolled over to look at the time. He saw Blaise's eyes were open and froze. The Weasley looked over when he noticed Draco had gone still. He too stopped moving, watching Blaise warily. Blaise could only smirk. He himself had what he knew was a voracious sexual appetite. He could hardly blame Draco for whatever fetishes he might have. Blaise was sure his own were far worse.

"Morning." He greeted casually.


	2. Castle

_A/N: Here's the second one. I've deiced that I'll upload one a night (unless I can't find the time) until I catch up to myself, at which point I'll upload one every time I write one. Right now, I have twenty written, so that'll keep me going for a few weeks. Enjoy~_

_Word count: 327_

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><p>Draco ran a hand over the moss-covered walls, half-ruined, and his eyes went slightly glazed as he imagined what the place must have looked like in its prime. He felt a sense of longing well up inside him, and he sighed in melancholy. Malfoy Manor was, of course, extremely impressive, but it had been renovated by the various generations so many times that the original castle it had once been had been completely altered.<p>

And he wanted to live in a proper castle. It was one of the reasons he loved Hogwarts so much, though you'd never catch him admitting it.

Professor Snape caught him lagging behind and urged him to rejoing the group. It wasn't often that Hogwarts students took field trips, but it did happen every once in a while. And Tintagel was the birthplace of Arthur Pendragon.

Charlie, who had volunteered to be another of the chaperones, fell back to walk in step with him. "You know…" He murmured softly, and Draco looked at him curiously. "Dragons have this odd fascination with castles." He said, and Draco blushed. "The number of times I've had to sneak into castle basements, or even towers, in order to check on a nest is unbelievable." He continued conversationally.

"It would be nice." Draco agreed mildly. "To live in a proper castle."

He felt Charlie's hand brush against the small of his back, sending a tingle shooting up his spine. "Well, dragons are very good at getting what they want." He pointed out. "And so are Malfoys." He added, whispering the last part in Draco's ear.

Draco smirked arrogantly at Charlie. "Yes. We are." He agreed, his hand sliding lasciviously over Charlie's leather-clad ass. He felt Charlie shudder deliciously under his touch, and his smirk became even more self-assured and cocky. He strutted ahead, slipping into the middle of the group with ease so Charlie wouldn't be able to reach him.

It was so much fun teasing his Tamer.


	3. Tables

_A/N: Ok, so this one (and a few future ones) is the reason why this is rated M. There be sex ahead. You have been warned. Any mental trauma you suffer from reading this is on your own head. And mental trauma there may be, because I'm really not entirely happy with this one. There are bits I like, but it feels a bit... I dunno, chiched? I guess... Either way, you read at your own risk._

_Word count: 288_

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><p>At first, Draco had been a passive lover. Uncertain, nervous, willing and compliant, and Charlie loved it. He loved having his pale, slender lover under him as he ravished him. Listening to Draco beg for more was music to his ears. It set him off in a way he'd never experienced before, having always been involved with lovers who were more sure of themselves, more experienced.<p>

But Draco would always be a quick study. He was a Slytherin, after all. They were known for their ability to adapt, to shed one skin and don another like their mascot, being able to quickly and easily learn the rules for any new social setting.

This time, Charlie found himself expertly manoeuvred onto his hands and knees, with Draco behind him. Draco was not gentle with him, he was fierce and rough and passionate, and he gave it his all because he knew Charlie could take it. And it was bliss. Charlie had no objections to being submissive, enjoyed sex one way or the other, but something about this new, aggressive, arrogant, pushy Draco who knew exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it was so arousing. So wonderful. So beautiful.

The tables had been turned, and now Charlie was utterly at Draco's mercy.

As Charlie's arms gave way under him, and his face and shoulders pressed into the mattress, he smiled. He realized it wasn't having Draco under him that really set him off- He came with a muffled cry, even though Draco was still rock hard and pounding into him. What really made Charlie's body hum with need was simply Draco himself.

_I didn't tame this dragon_, he thought with an odd sense of pride. _He tamed me._


	4. Coffee

_A/N: And another drabble. The list is growing faster than I'm uploading, which is a good thing, I think. =P I'm not all that fond of this one, but it's not the worst I've ever written, so... *shrugs* Hope you all enjoy it, regardless of what I think of it._

_Word count: 392_

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><p>When Draco woke, he was instantly aware that the solid heat he had become so used to waking beside was gone. He didn't worry though, because he could hear Charlie pottering about in their room at the reserve. He blinked his eyes open and rolled over to watch Charlie. He was clearly only half awake. Charlie was a heavy sleeper, Draco had learnt. When Charlie woke in the mornings, it took him well on fifteen minutes to even begin thinking coherently. He was still formidable, though. Draco had seen him clamber out of bed in the middle of the night, eyes half-shut and his brain completely disconnected, and still he managed to help bring down a rogue dragon.<p>

Draco himself was a light sleeper. His parents had always encouraged paranoia in him, and he rarely slept all the way through the night, waking at odd sounds or shifts in atmosphere. When he woke in the mornings, he was always alert instantly, ready for the day.

Dismissing his thoughts as early-morning ramblings – Draco admitted that even he was prone to that – he turned his attention back to Charlie. He was currently leaning over a mug on his desk, adding a sachet of some red-brown powder to what Draco could only assume was his morning tea.

"What's that?" Draco asked curiously, sitting up.

Charlie looked over and blinked at him, as if unable to process the question. "Dragon's blood." He mumbled, stirring the contents of the mug with his wand, then tossing it down his throat. Draco's eyes widened. Charlie stood still for a moment, then smiled, and when he looked at Draco, his eyes were perfectly alert. "When it's dried, and added to a hot beverage, it becomes a stimulant, a lot like coffee. But it tastes better, in my opinion."

"Surely it's addictive?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, more so than coffee, but that's why I only take it on special occasions." Charlie explained with a grin.

Draco's eyebrows rose. "What's the occasion?" He asked.

Charlie's grin was that of a child told Christmas had come early. It lit up his entire face with a youthful glee that Draco found himself craving and basking in. "First hatchings are due today!" He announced brightly, and Draco rolled his eyes, even though he had to admit that he too was excited to see the baby dragons.


	5. Living Dead

_A/N: I had so much trouble thinking of what to write for this prompt, but then I listened to the audio CDs of the first book, and in... Chapter 8, I think, it mentions Quirrel having a run in with a vampire in Romania, and... need I say more? =P (I'm actually rather pleased with this one, even if it is a bit ramble-y)_

_Also, sorry for the delay in updating with this. Life decided to smack me in the face, and I've been trying to deal with spring cleaning, starting college next week, finishing an OU college course this week, AND my grandma's, one of my friend's andmy own birthdays are all coming up. -_- Real Life. Wish it would go away and bother someone else._

_Word count: 395_

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><p>Draco had discovered that homework wasn't nearly as difficult as it seemed when he had Charlie helping him. With his boyfriend's arm draped over his shoulder as he poured over text books, he felt much more at ease than he did when doing homework at home. He was also able to blurt out any question that came to mind, and not be ridiculed for it. It was nice when, instead of treating him like an idiot, Charlie answered even his most stupid of questions with a mild, relaxed tone.<p>

Care of Magical Creatures had been by far the easiest, but now Draco was stuck on his Arithmancy. He didn't like Arithmancy at all, but his parents had insisted. Charlie wasn't much help with it, either, as he hadn't even bothered to take it. Maths and Charlie didn't really get along very well, particularly the complex magical algorithms Draco was currently dealing with.

The door to their rooms in the reserve – Draco had already being to think of them as 'theirs', and he'd only been there a little over two weeks – burst open to reveal a pale and bloodied Bill in the doorway. Gringotts had sent the eldest Weasley on a special assignment in return for letting him have a desk job for the rest of the year. This assignment placed him in Romania, so he had come to stay with Charlie…

…Only to find him in a rather compromising position with Draco.

Bill was staying for a week, and had been there only two days. In that time, Draco had, though it was painful to admit, found himself becoming rather fond of Bill. He was very much the way Draco had always imagined an older brother to be, and he appreciated beyond words that Bill had accepted him and his relationship with Charlie.

So when Bill staggered into the room, wounded and covered in blood, Draco felt a swoop of actual, genuine worry in his stomach. "Charlie…" Bill growled.

"Bill, are you alright?" Charlie asked, leaping to his feet to support his wobbling brother.

Draco and Bill both rolled their eyes at the redundant question, and Draco rose to fetch the medi-kit. "Why-" He heard Bill grate out as he slipped into the en suite bathroom. "-did you not _tell_ me there's a Clan of sodding _Vampires_ living in the keep on the hill?"

"…Whoops."


	6. Assassins

_A/N: My apologies for my tardiness. ^^" As for this drabble, I'm fifty-fifty about it. I like writing about an unexpectedly brave Draco, but I only like it with good reason, and while I think he does have good reason in the drabble, I don't think I portrayed it very well... And it is a bit out of character anyway, so apologies for that._

_Word count: 495_

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><p>Draco stared at the letter in his trembling hands. He wasn't quite sure why he was shaking. Was it the fear? Or rage? Certainly both were building up inside him until he felt ready to explode. The ornaments on the fireplace in his room were shaking in the magical build-up.<p>

This was beyond what he could take, Draco decided. Everything else was tolerable, but this was too much. He had to get out. He spun on his heel and strode to his large wardrobe. He grabbed his backpack off the top and packed only the bare essentials.

He was just filling the rest of the backpack up with some rare books he loved and a pouch heavy with galleons when his mother walked in and stopped short. "Draco?" She asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Yes, mother?" Draco replied curtly.

"What are you doing?"

"Packing, mother." Draco stated. He didn't want to take it out on his mother, but the rage was over-taking the fear. After all, Charlie was fine. The assassins hadn't hurt him. He turned to face his mother, and as he did so he saw her flick her hand in a gesture he knew. It was a wandless summoning, and it had to be meant for his father. With a bitter smile, he walked to the fireplace. "Seeing as you just called father, I'd better leave quickly."

"Why, Draco?" Narcissa asked, and Draco heard genuine concern in her voice.

Draco sighed and relented. "Because there's only so much I can take, mother, and father crossed that line. I can't- I _won't_ play this game anymore."

"What game?" Lucius asked from the doorway.

Draco's fragile control over his rage snapped. "THIS GAME!" He yelled, gesturing round the room as he turned his most fierce glare on his father. "YOUR GAME! THE SLYTHERIN GAME! I WANT _OUT_! I'M SICK OF IT! I'M SICK OF _YOU_ CONTROLLING _EVERY – SINGLE – ASPECT_ OF MY _ENTIRE LIFE_!" He took a moment to catch his breath and revel in the look of shock on his mother's face, and fearful denial on his father's. "I could put up with you telling me I can't have the job I want. I could put up with you telling me I can't have the partner I want. I put up with you telling me what subjects to take, when to study, what to eat, how to dress. Hell, I even let you tell me how to _think_!" He laughed bitterly. "But the one thing you aren't allowed to touch is Charlie."

Lucius's eyes widened. "Draco-" He began, his stern tone utterly ruined by how it shook faintly with fear.

"Fuck you." Draco spat, and he caught a glimpse of the shock and horror on his parent's faces as turned, grabbed some floo powder, and stepped into the fire place. He threw the powder down. "Romanian Dragon Reserve." He said, and was whisked away by emerald flames to his new life. One he'd chosen for himself.


	7. History

_A/N: So sorry for my absence. Writer's Bloack and Real Life have conspired against me, and utterly destroyed my ability to do anything even remotely creative. Those of you who watch my other story, Inherited War, will have noticed that I haven't updated that either. I'm terribly sorry, and I will do my best to catch up, but I make no promises._

_On a happier note, as today is my birthday, I decided I will be nice and upload a bunch of these drabbles. Three more after this one, so there's a nice round ten of them up here. I hope you enjoy._

_One last note before I let you get on and read; this drabble is both set after Draco's seventh year at Hogwarts (IE: Post!Deathly Hallows), and Epilogue-Compliant. I utterly adore little Scorpius, so there will be more drabbles like this. I'll probably make a note if they are in the Author's Notes._

_Word count: 405_

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><p>Somehow, Molly had convinced Charlie to come home for Christmas. He usually avoided it, simply sending his gifts home and enjoying a quiet Christmas with his colleagues at the reserve. They needed a certain number of people there, so only a few people got to spend Christmas at home each year, and Charlie rarely chose to be one of those few.<p>

This was why Charlie was currently wandering Diagon Alley, looking for gifts for his family, which had grown to startling proportions over the last decade or two. It was bad enough having six siblings, but when five of them were married with at least two kids, it made for an expensive Christmas. He had made some of their presents, and collected others from off the reserve, but still, it wasn't enough.

After peering into Quality Quidditch Supplies, Charlie made up his mind to buy some broom accessories for James. He stepped up to the door, which opened before he could touch it. His heart did something funny in his chest when he saw the pale blonde man in the doorway, looking over his shoulder and talking to someone inside the shop.

Then Draco turned, and he saw Charlie, who was staring at him with what Charlie was sure was a very odd look on his face. He saw Draco's eyes widen and a faint blush crept into his cheeks. Then he smiled warmly, a wry edge to gesture. "Charlie." He greeted.

"Hey." Charlie replied.

A woman with dark curls and a pretty face stepped up beside Draco. "Draco, who's this?" She asked, linking her arm with his. Then she turned her head and called into the shop. "Do come on, Scorpius! We don't have all day."

"Let him look if he wants to." Draco said mildly, putting his hand on the woman's, which was resting on his arm. Charlie's stomach turned over and he tried to ignore the jealousy burning like acid in his chest. "And this is Charlie Weasley, an old... associate." Draco told the woman who Charlie could only assume was his wife. Charlie had to smile at the word Draco had chosen. How vague, and utterly _Draco_.

"You've never mentioned him before, Draco." His wife said, looking confused.

Draco's smile became rather amused, and Charlie remembered just how much he loved that expression on Draco. It was manipulative, sneaky and secretive. Slytherin to the extreme, and utterly beautiful. "We have... history."


	8. Pie

_A/N: Here is the second of the four drabbles I'm uploading today!_

_This is Post!DH, but not epilogue-compliant. It's not too obvious, but it does explain the slightly less antagonistic response from the Weasleys. Well, whatever. You can decide when you think this is set._

_Word count: 478_

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><p>There was silence in the kitchen of the Burrow as Draco stared in utter shock at the large meal set out before him. Not only was it all home made and cooked to perfection, but Charlie had obviously spoken to his mother before hand, because all of Draco's favourite foods were there. He felt rather grateful that Molly, who by all rights should loathe him as much as she seemed to loathe the rest of his family, had gone to such an effort to make him feel not only welcome, but like a part of the family.<p>

"You want to stand there gawking all night, or are you gonna sit down?" Charlie asked kindly, patting the seat beside him. Draco shot Charlie a slight glare and sat down in the chair indicated. He glanced over to see who was sitting opposite him and winced.

_ Great. Sitting opposite Potter. Isn't _that_ awkward?_ He thought, not letting his face betray his thoughts.

"Well, dig in, everyone!" Molly ordered cheerfully. The Weasley children obliged enthusiastically, and Draco couldn't help but wince at some people's – he wasn't about to name names, but only because it was obvious who the transgressors were – table manners. Charlie chuckled under his breath and discretely squeezed Draco's hand before tucking in to his own meal.

It was surprising to Draco how easily conversation flowed all through dinner, despite his presence, which both he and Charlie had expected to disrupt things enormously. But while Ron might have been a little more subdued, and Potter a little wary to start with, once Draco had proven that he was not the same git – and he had been, even he admitted it – he'd been at school, everything seemed ok.

When everyone had eaten their fill, the dirty dishes were vanished, and desert was levitated onto the table by Molly. The Weasleys didn't need prompting to dig in this time around, but Draco was a little baffled by the sheer number of sweets and confectioneries on display before him. His sweet tooth was practically aching with longing to try anything and everything, and he didn't really know where to start.

Charlie, with a mouthful of ice-cream in his mouth, shoved a home-baked pie towards him. "Have some pie. Mum makes the _best_ pie."

_Pie first then_, Draco decided, following Charlie's advice.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were a little stunned when Draco managed a helping of every single desert on the table.

"Where does he put it all?" Ginny demanded with wide eyes.

Charlie smirked and wrapped his arms around Draco's shoulders. "He works it off." He replied with a wink and a kiss to Draco's neck. Ron gagged, but Fred and George roared with laughter and made crude gestures that set Molly off on a rant about propriety.

Draco almost smiled. He liked feeling like he was a part of this family.


	9. Sculpture

_A/N: Aaand the third drabble for today!_

_This one is not only epilogue-compliant, but also Scorpius-centric. Yeay! I lovelovelove little my Scorp~! Hee~!_

_Word count: 226_

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><p>Scorpius had always been fascinated with the ornaments that his dad kept on the mantel in his office. He often sat in the study with his dad, working on the projects his tutors had given him while his dad did 'grown up' work that had something to do with the Ministry. He'd had plenty of opportunity to stare at the various little trinkets and wonder about them.<p>

It didn't take long before his curiosity got the better of him and he climbed up onto the armchair by the fireplace and stood on tiptoe on the arm nearest the fire. If he stretched, he could just about brush his fingers over a sculpture of a dragon.

As his fingers brushed it, it came to life, stretching its wings and roaring, a little burst of flame shooting from its jaw. Scorpius stared in wonder, and a wide smile spread across his face. He held out his hand and the dragon, after sniffing his fingers, stepped onto his palm.

He settled into the armchair, with the dragon cupped in his hands. It snorted smoke and rolled onto its back, and Scorpius saw something etched on the dragon's belly. Curiously, he leaned over and peered at the marks. It was writing. He tilted his head, attempting to read whatever was written there.

'_For my favourite Dragon._

_ All my love, Charlie._'


	10. Roses

_A/N: And finally, here we have the last little drabble that I'm uploading today. Enjoy!_

_Blood _hell_, but this one was difficult. There's such a romantic connotation attached to roses, and though I do think Charlie and Draco can be romantic of the mood takes them, something that traditional really doesn't fit either of them. Draco would rebel at being treated like a girl if Charlie tried to be traditionally romantic with him, and he wouldn't feel comfortable doing the same with Charlie._

_I hope I managed to keep them both in character..._

_Word count: 389_

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><p>Draco never thought he could be so relieved to be back at Hogwarts. It was the beginning of his fifth year, and with the Dark Lord using Draco's home as his base of operations, Draco no longer felt safe in the one place he should. The first breakfast was full of the chatter of reacquainting friends, something Draco wasn't particularly interested in engaging in. He stared morosely at his plate and poked his scrambled eggs around on it.<p>

The post arrived, swooping in and dropping parcels and letters in front of students. There was a lot more mail in the first few weeks than usual, as parents found things their children had forgotten and sent them on to Hogwarts. Draco wasn't expecting anything from his parents for another couple of days. He wasn't sure if they would even send their usual parcel of treats, what with the Dark Lord in residence and the war starting up again.

A large tawny owl landed in front of him, and Draco blinked. The owl had no letter or parcel, simply a flower in its beak. A red rose in full bloom. Draco's mind immediately flashed back to the time he and Fleur, who had floo-called to speak to Bill, attempted to explain to Charlie the concept of flowers having a language. Draco only knew about it because Narcissa was crazy for that sort of romantic stuff.

A single red rose meant '_I love you_' as almost anyone could tell you.

Draco took the flower from the bird, and the moment his fingers were grasping the stem, he felt some sort of enchantment activate. Tiny flames leapt to life along the edges of the petals for a moment, burning merrily. The sparks twisted and leapt briefly into the shape of a dragon before they died out completely, leaving the flower unharmed.

Greg and Vince were staring at him in bewilderment, Blaise was smirking and Pansy looked furious with jealousy. It took all of Draco's Slytherin wiles to keep himself from pulling the most sappy, love-struck expression known to wizard-kind. He laid the flower carefully beside his plate, unable to entirely keep the smile off his face as he returned to his breakfast.

Charlie always knew when he was in a bad mood, and he always knew exactly how to cheer him up again.


	11. Wheat

_A/N: I'm so terribly sorry for my absence. Especially to those of you who also read Inherited War. A thousand apologies to you all. Life just sucks at the moment and I'm finding it hard to get motivated to do anything much._

_This drabble here was really difficult, but I'm pretty pleased with how it came out. I called on a little general dragon-lore, rather than HP-specific dragon-lore in this one, but I think it works out ok. ^w^_

_Enjoy~_

_Word count: 350_

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><p>"So, where are we going again?" Draco asked as he followed Charlie along one of the many animal trails that crisscrossed the dragon reserve. The question was asked in a vague manner, because Draco was currently caught up in admiring the way Charlie's ass looked when it was clad in dragon-scale leather.<p>

Charlie glanced over his shoulder and saw the direction of Draco's gaze. He smirked to himself. "Mating season's just started, and we need to make sure the females of the reserve don't kill each other."

"Isn't it typically the males that battle it out over the females?" Draco asked curiously, quickening his pace to walk beside Charlie now that their path was widening a little.

"Typically, yeah. But with dragons, the females are bigger, nastier and generally dominant." Charlie explained. "The males have to earn a females attention, and if they attract two different females…" Charlie shuddered. "It's bad enough when one dragon goes nuts and we have to stop it killing itself, but _two_ horny females? Ugh…"

Draco laughed, walking a little closer to Charlie. Charlie took the hint and grasped Draco's hand in his own. A moment later they crested a hill, and Draco saw a field of gold spread out before them. For a moment, he couldn't comprehend what he was seeing, but then he got it. "Wheat?" He asked in bewilderment. "Why is there a wheat field here?"

"We planted it." Charlie explained. "For some reason, dragons favour it as a building material for their nests." He shrugged as he passed into the field, the stalks coming up to his chest. When Draco followed, they nearly reached his chin.

They waded through the golden crop for a while, and a mischievous idea began to form in Draco's mind. When Charlie paused to listen to a dragon's roar, Draco stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Charlie's waist. Charlie stilled, but didn't protest, and Draco took that as invitation to continue, his hands roaming over more leather.

Needless to say, Charlie didn't manage to get much actual work done on that particular outing.


	12. Rage

_A/N: Ooh, look, another one! Hah, I'm on a roll XD_

_This one was fun to write. I like bitchy!Draco. He's so entertaining. =P I'm not so sure how much I like the ending, but I'm happy with most of it, so it's ok._

_Word count: 488_

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><p>Breakfast at Hogwarts was never a quiet event, but sometimes things got a little louder than usual. Special events in particular, like Valentines, which was a favourite with the girls. Draco had never liked the holiday much, but now he felt happier about it. He did, after all, have someone who was thinking of him.<p>

He got proof of his loved one's thoughts when an owl landed before him bearing a large, squishy package. Draco bit back a smile as he took the parcel from the owl. In his usual, careless fashion, Draco ripped open the paper and found inside the most gorgeous coat he'd ever seen. It was knee-length and made entirely of black dragon-scale leather. The scales shimmered with different colours in the light, and the buttons were the rich golden-red of dragon's gold.

He didn't notice that Pansy fairly went green as he admired his coat. "Who's that from, then, Draco?" Blaise asked curiously.

"None of your business." Draco replied without any of his usual bite in his tone.

"I didn't know you had a girlfriend, Draco." Pansy commented, and she leant over and tugged the coat out of Draco's hands. "I suppose it's perfectly good quality, but the colours just don't work." She said dismissively, tugging lightly at the buttons and picking at various seams.

Blaise and Theo noticed Draco's cheeks colouring with anger and wisely shifted away from the steaming blonde. Pansy didn't notice, and Draco didn't even bother keeping his temper under control. "Get your slimy, slut-hands off my coat, Pansy." He snapped.

Pansy gaped at him, but didn't let go of the coat. "What did you just say?" She shrieked, her voice painfully high-pitched. It effectively got the attention of all the other people in the hall.

"Let me rephrase: You're a greedy, jealous little bitch, and if you don't get your disgustingly grabby hands off my coat in the next five seconds, I will hex you so badly that the mirror won't just crack when you look at it, it'll shatter completely." Draco snarled.

Pansy looked as if she didn't know whether to shout back or burst into tears. "It's a cheap rag anyway." She snapped, tossing the coat at Draco, who caught it, looking even more furious than before. "Whoever bought it for you obviously doesn't think you're worth very much."

Every Slytherin and most of the Ravenclaws knew she was bullshitting, especially Draco. But the insinuation still infuriated him. In true Slytherin style, he went straight for the jugular. "You know, Pansy, jealousy actually suits you." He said coolly. "It is an ugly trait, after all." He snorted and stood. "You ought to just give up now and join a convent, because I'd honestly choose a _Weasley_ over you." He said in disgust, before walking away, leaving the entire hall frozen in shock.

"Me-yow." Blaise commented dryly, clawing mockingly at the air, indirectly calling the argument a cat-fight.


	13. Depravity

_A/N: Well, this one was really hard to fit into five-hundred words. It wanted to be so much longer. XD I had to cut it down so much, which is why it might seem a little different. It's mostly just description, really._

_I apologise for my long absence (again). And thank you to all of you who've favourited/reviewed/subscribed to this story. It's thanks to you all that I've got my ass in gear to upload this. It makes me so happy I can't even say every time I get an email telling me someone else has faved or reviewed. I'm touched, and flattered, and really, really happy. So thank you, thank you, thank you!  
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_Word count: 500_

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><p>Lucius Malfoy, instead of clinging to his position of Head of the family as his own father had done, passed the position to Draco when he turned twenty-one. When he was informed of this change, Draco's face had been solemn and respectful, as it should be, but Lucius had not missed the devious light in his son's eyes, and the way he retreated to his room, deep in thought, after his birthday celebrations were over.<p>

Over the next few days, they all adjusted to the shift in power. Draco still felt a huge amount of respect for his father, but the truth of the matter was that what Draco said was law in their family, and Lucius could not over-rule him. This opened up a whole lot of interesting possibilities.

There were two goals Draco had in mind the moment he became Head of the family. The first was the reclamation of the respect and power the Malfoy family had commanded before they chose the loosing side of the war. The second was Charlie Weasley.

That night, a plan formed in Draco's mind. A plan that would get him everything he wanted in one fell swoop.

The next morning he went to the Ministry. He found a couple of reporters dogging his steps, and made sure to keep his bearing confident without arrogance. He did several things that day that once his father heard of them, he nearly had a heart-attack. First, he named Teddy Lupin as his heir. Second, he made sure he was seen speaking to Harry Potter in the corridors. Third, he addressed the press, and while his answers to their questions weren't particularly emotional, they were downright soppy by Malfoy standards.

Less than a year later, Draco was married to Charlie and considered by all involved a member of the Weasley family. He made a great effort to patch things up with Potter and his friends, allowed the world to see that he was in love with Charlie, and sacrificed many a weekend to babysitting Teddy.

Draco became a common sight at the ministry, popping in and out with no apparent purpose, much as his father had done. Only Charlie knew what Draco was waiting for, and when some wannabe Dark Lord caused the upper echelons of the ministry to panic, Draco was there, manipulating all of the politicians and bureaucrats out of Harry and Ron's way as they dealt with the problem.

Harry realised what had been done, and when it was explained to the others, they realised exactly what position Draco had just put himself in. He'd just made himself an indispensable part of their team. Without him, so many more lives would have been lost.

"You did that on purpose!" Ron accused during the celebrations over the wizard's capture. Draco simply nodded. "How long have you been planning this?"

"Years." Draco replied smugly.

"That's so wrong." Ron protested weakly.

"Are you complaining?" Draco asked mildly, and Ron snapped his mouth shut, looking resigned.


	14. Mothers

_A/N: This drabble here is an interesting little peek at the Weasley/Malfoy dynamic. It's another one that really didn't want to fit in the 500 word limit. I could go on and on about the fascinating psychology and dynamics of these two families. But I won't bore you here; please enjoy the fic~_

_Word count: 499_

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><p>The tension in the grand dining room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Draco kept his eyes on his plate to avoid looking at anyone. He didn't want to see the painfully false smile on his father's face, nor the tight disbelief and irritation on his mother's. He didn't want to see the glower on Mr. Weasley's face, nor the concern on Mrs. Weasley's- Molly's. She had told him to call her Molly. He especially didn't want to see the look of discomfort he was sure was on Charlie's face.<p>

"Well," Molly said, breaking the silence and causing Lucius to twitch. "I must say, this meal is absolutely wonderful. Did you make it, Narcissa?" She asked, and Draco winced.

Narcissa shot an affronted look at Molly. "I most certainly did _not_." She said coldly. "The _house-elves_ complete the menial tasks." She added pointedly. Draco bit back a groan and ducked lower over his plate. He felt someone tap his foot under the table, and glanced up. Charlie gave him a sympathetic smile and a barely noticeable shrug. Draco managed a half-smile

"Oh." Molly said, looking concerned rather than offended, as Draco had rather expected. "Draco, dear, have you never had a home-cooked meal before?" She asked, sounding deeply concerned.

"This _is_ home-cooked." Narcissa snapped.

Now Molly bristled. "Home-cooked, Narcissa, means that a meal had someone put love and care into their cooking with a _specific_ person in mind!" She shot back.

"Actually Mrs. W- Molly." Draco said diplomatically before his mother could reply. "I have had a home-cooked meal once, if you remember." He said politely, and Molly flushed happily.

"Oh, yes, that's right, of course!" Molly said, beaming. Charlie grinned at Draco in appreciation of his tactful move. Narcissa went back to meal a little pink in the cheek and highly irritated. The rest of the meal passed in silence, and then the Malfoys escorted the Weasleys to the fireplace, so they could floo home. "You must visit the Burrow again soon, dear." Molly said, cupping Draco's face in her hands.

"I will, Molly." Draco agreed, and Molly beamed. She pulled him into a hug that Draco rather enjoyed, even though he wouldn't admit it.

"Take care of yourself, dear." Molly told him before flooing off with her husband. Charlie, completely ignoring propriety – and the horrified and embarrassed looks on Lucius and Narcissa's faces – stepped forwards and gave Draco a very deep, loving kiss. He pulled back, leaving Draco breathless, and winked at him before flooing off back to Romania.

Later that evening, Draco stopped by his mother's reading room. "I'm just on my way to bed, mother." He said quietly, and Narcissa looked up at him with a smile. "Good night."

To his surprise, his mother put aside her book and stood. She swept over to him and pulled him into a soft embrace. Draco swallowed passed a lump in his throat and hugged her back tightly. "Good night, Draco." Narcissa said softly.


	15. Russia

_A/N: This one was difficult to write, but I got there in the end. I don't really have much else to say about it, except it's set in the summer before ffith year. So while Harry's off getting attacked by dementors, this is what Draco's doing~ Hee~ Lucky Draco =P_

_Word count: 354_

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><p>Draco was lounging on the bed he shared with Charlie at the dragon reserve, flipping through a Quidditch magazine. Charlie had been called to the admin's office for some reason, and Draco was a little bored without him around. <em>I'm pathetic<em>, he thought absently, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. _Already can't go five minutes without him. What the hell am I gonna do when school starts up again?_ He wondered morosely.

Just as he was beginning to sink into melancholy, the door to their room burst open and Charlie all but pounced on him. "Gah-!" Draco let out a very undignified noise as all the breath was forced from his lungs. He was just about to attempt breathing in when Charlie's mouth covered his own. When Charlie finally pulled back, Draco was breathing hard to compensate for the lack of oxygen. "Hello to you too." He grumbled between breaths.

Charlie grinned at him. "Ever been to Russia, Draco?" He asked cheerfully.

"What…?" Draco asked, blinking in shock.

"Russia." Charlie repeated. "Ever been there?"

"No. Why?" Draco replied, frowning in confusion.

"Well, they've found a mated pair of Russian Steelhorns, and they want to transfer them to this reserve, otherwise the eggs will get stolen by hunters and poachers." Charlie explained cheerfully. "Connie asked me to go. So how do you feel about going to Russia?"

Draco had travelled a lot with his parents. France, Germany, Italy, Egypt. But this summer, he'd already been to Australia, Canada, and Korea. Somehow, when he was with his parents, travelling from one place to another wasn't all that different. Wherever they went, they stayed in the same sort of fancy hotel, everyone spoke gibberish, and the food was gross. That was all he'd ever gotten out of it, and he'd never liked it much. But with Charlie it was different. It was an adventure. Whenever Charlie took him somewhere, they were tossed into the culture of a completely new place. They explored the wilderness, which varied in each place, and actually got to know the locals.

Travelling with Charlie was just fun.

"Russia sounds good."


	16. Chicken

_A/N: Aaand here's another one; a teeny-tiny bit of backstory for boutchouross and a little lime, as well. =P_

_Yes, Draco is fourteen here. And Charlie is twenty-one. I do know this is a big age-gap, particularly at that age, but you also have to take into account that A) wizards live twice as long as muggles, so the age gap is, in the wizarding world's opinion, closer to how we would veiw a fourteen and an eighteen year old. And B) wizarding society is a lot more old fashioned than muggle society. They wear robes, write with quills, etc. If we look back at medieval times, it wasn't unusual for young teens to be sexually active, or even married off at thirteen or fourteen. Draco is a pureblood, and raised with pureblood attitudes and ideas, which I see as being quite old-fashioned and somewhat medieval. Which means, from a modern point of view, it's probably closer to how we would see a sixteen and a twenty year old.  
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_So, in short, Charlie might have a _few_ doubts, but Draco is a pushy, manipulative Slytherin and is used to getting what he wants, when he wants it._

_If, considering the explanation above, the whole being-fourteen-and-twenty-one thing still bothers you, don't read any further. But otherwise, please enjoy~!_

_Word count: 391  
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><p>Charlie stared at Draco in surprise. Since he had come to Hogwarts to help with the Triwizard Tournament, Charlie had been seeing a lot of the young Malfoy. They had flirted, and not all that subtly, and now… Well, now, Charlie was pretty sure Draco was coming on to him.<p>

Draco's hand was on his thigh, and he was sitting much closer than he should be. There was an intense look in his grey eyes, though Charlie detected a hint of nervousness too. Charlie leaned in close and brushed his lips over the shell of Draco's ear. "What are you doing?" He asked in a whisper, even though it was pretty obvious what Draco was doing.

Draco didn't answer immediately, but when he did, Charlie heard the smirk he was wearing in the tone of his voice. "Seeing how far you'll let me go." He replied.

"Oh, so this is a game of chicken, is it?" Charlie asked lightly, smirking as well. He felt more than saw Draco's casual shrug, and then the boy's lips were on his neck, tracing the toned muscles down to his shoulder, where his progress was impeded by Charlie's leather jacket. Charlie leaned back and slowly – teasingly – unbuttoned the jacket, shrugged it off, and tugged off his shirt. "Nervous yet?" He asked lightly.

Draco arched one pale blonde eyebrow at Charlie. His eyes travelled slowly and appreciatively over Charlie's torso, before meeting his eyes again. "No." He said coolly, and Charlie was surprised, and impressed, to see that he was telling the truth. There was nothing nervous in his movements or expression at all. There was, however, fascination on his face as he reached out and slid his hands over the planes of Charlie's abs. Eventually, his wandering fingers found Charlie's nipples, and he toyed with them until they pebbled under his touch. "Nervous yet?" He asked mockingly, because they both knew what the answer would be.

"Hardly." Charlie replied. He reached out and removed Draco's shirt, then pulled the slender blonde against him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He breathed in, catching Draco's scent and then exhaling lightly over Draco's skin, causing goosebumps to rise. He could feel Draco's heart thudding away against his own, and his hands gripped at Charlie's shoulders. "Nervous yet?" He breathed.

"Not at all." Draco drawled in response.


	17. Letters

_A/N: Well, this one was a bit difficult, due to the plural; 'letter**s**', but I did it in the end, and I'm very, very pleased with how this came out. I hope you all like it as much as I do! ^_^_

_Word count: 484_

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><p>Narcissa might not have been the warmest person in existence, but she was still a mother. She worried about her son almost constantly, especially now that the Dark Lord had returned. Christmas was meant to be a happy time, time spent with family, but Draco had spent more time holed up in his room this holiday than he had in the company of his parents.<p>

So Narcissa did what any mother would do. When Draco was in the study with Lucius, discussing 'men-things', Narcissa went to have a look in Draco's room. It looked, at first glance, much the same as it always had, but then Narcissa began to notice that the traces of Draco's childhood were disappearing. Plushies were being replaced with ornaments, comic books with textbooks, and the desk that had once been a mess of bored doodles was now scrupulously clean, with a blank piece of parchment just waiting for Draco to return and start writing.

Starting her search with the desk, Narcissa poked and prodded the small amount of items on top of the desk, before going through each drawer. On the second to last drawer on the left, she detected magic, and paused. She drew her wand and cast a few sensory charms over it. There was a shield charm, a locking spell, and a very nasty curse protecting the drawer from exploring fingers.

Curiosity peaked, and worry intensified tenfold, Narcissa lifted the spells and pulled the drawer open. Inside was a rather plain box, with its own set of even nastier curses on it. However, these didn't perturb Narcissa, as they were blood-keyed, so Draco could get into the box without worrying about the curses. As Narcissa was a very close blood relative of Draco's, she was recognised by the curses and allowed to open the box.

To her surprise, Narcissa found letters inside the box. She rifled through them, puzzled. All of them were written in a language she was not familiar with. She hadn't been aware Draco spoke anything other than French and English, both of which she was fluent in. She attempted a translation spell, but a ward on the letters stopped her. Taking a closer look, she saw that all the letters began 'Mea la balaur'.

This was definitely worth more investigation, but right now, Narcissa knew she had to put everything back where she found it before Draco got back. As she was placing the letter she had half tugged out back, she noticed something that made her pause. 'Te iubesc' was written near the bottom of the letter in her hand. Narcissa was a romantic at heart, and she knew what that meant, even in an obscure language like Romanian. _So they're love letters_, she realised, smiling a little.

She put the letters back and recast the spells over them, before leaving her son's room. Oh, she couldn't _wait_ to tell Lucius!


	18. Nest

_A/N: This one was inspired by Dinotopia. If you know what I'm talking about, then virtual cookies for you! I love that movie._

_I'm sorry about my nearly two-week long absence (has it really been that long?) I have been battling colds, college and stress. There's a hole in my roof, I'm not sleeping well, and all the furniture in my room is in the process of being moved. You probably didn't want to know all that, but that's why I haven't been posting these regularly. I have also been slaving away over the next chapter of Inherited War, and another story called 'Fairy Tail's Fairytales' which I will probably put up here as soon as I've got another few finished... which could take ages, so don't hold your breath. (The ones I have finished are up on my deviant art, for those of you who use that site...)  
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_I'm very tired right now... which explains the pointless rambling above._

_I'll shut up now and let you read the drabble._

_Word count: 443_

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><p>"You want me to <em>climb<em>… up _there_… _without magic_?" Draco demanded incredulously, looking from the sheer cliff-face before him to Charlie, who was smirking at him. "No." Draco said simply, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You'll fail the apprenticeship if you don't." Charlie told him, and Draco twitched a little. A Malfoy, _fail_ at something? Not going to happen, even if it was a Dragon Keeping apprenticeship. But still… He looked back at the cliff and felt his stomach writhe with nerves.

"Why can't I use magic again?" Draco asked, swallowing nervously.

"Because any magic performed around dragon eggs taints the hatchling." Charlie explained patiently, as he had done twice before. Draco sighed, then looking imploringly at Charlie. He really did not want to do this. Charlie smiled softly at him and pulled him into a hug. "Come on. It's not as hard as it looks, and I'll be right behind you." He encouraged.

"…Fine." Draco conceded, and turned his attention back to the cliff. Steeling himself, he reached out with a gloved hand and found a hand-hold. Then he pressed his boot-clad toes into a crack about two feet up from the ground.

The going was slow, and the further up Draco got, the windier it became, making him more nervous. Charlie was, as promised, right behind him, and every so often he called out advice. Draco knew better than to ignore it, as he might have done with anyone else.

Finally, after what felt like years to Draco, he reached the nest they had been aiming for. He rolled onto the ledge and lay there, shaking with a mixture of adrenaline and relief. Scant seconds later, Charlie was hauling himself up onto the ledge like he did this every day. _Well, once a week, more likely_, Draco corrected himself.

In a shallow cave in the cliff, a large nest had been built, and sitting inside it, watching them warily, was one of the smallest breeds of dragon in the world, and it was still a bit bigger than the largest of war-horses. Charlie crooned to it softly in the back of his throat, and the dragon snarled a little, and curled up more protectively around its eggs.

"I can't believe I have to spend a whole night up here." Draco groused as he pushed himself up. Having spent three weeks here already, Draco was comfortable enough around dragons to know that this one wasn't going to attack unless he strayed too close to the nest, which he had no intention of doing.

Charlie grinned as he sat down next to him. "I'm sure we'll find some way of entertaining ourselves."


	19. Hell

_A/N: This one has to be one of my favourites of the whole bunch. The idea is pretty condensed here, but it was good enough that I actually started writing it out in full. It's currently 13,000 words long. ^_^ I have no idea when, or even if, I'll put it up on here, but if this drabble gets enough positive feedback, I probably will put it up soon._

_I'm sure everyone knows what Hell is, but for those not in the know; Typhon is the father of all monsters in Greek mythology, and the Yggdrasil is the 'world tree' from Norse mythology._

_Also, 'Connie' is an OC of mine. In short, her full name is Magda Constantin, and she's scarier than a dragon on a rampage. She's like a Slytherin McGonagal. ^_^_

_Word count: 493_

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><p>Draco felt sick. Was he nervous? No, it had gone past that long ago. He was terrified. He hadn't spent much time around the Dark Lord, but the little time spent in the man's company was more than enough to last a lifetime. And now, Draco was expected to take the Dark Mark.<p>

He paced up and down his bedroom, trying to calm the anxiety creeping up in his chest. He glanced at the fireplace. He knew the Dark Lord was watching the floo in and out of the house. But perhaps… Before he could think about it, he grabbed a pinch of floo powder and tossed it in the grate. Before anyone could realise what he was doing, he stepped into the fire and said 'The Leaky Cauldron'. He was whisked away.

He landed in the Leaky Cauldron, nodded to the barman, who was looking at him in utter surprise, then turned to the fire again and went on to the Romanian Dragon Reserve. But Charlie had gone home for the summer. He covered his face with shaking hands and tried to get his emotions under control. "Sorry, Connie, but could I fire-call him from here?" He asked, and the administrator of the reserve nodded, gesturing vaguely towards the fireplace as if telling him to get on with it.

When his head stopped spinning, he found himself looking out at a cluttered living room, where – Draco groaned inwardly – Potty and Weasel were playing chess on the carpet. He cleared his throat. "Malfoy!" The two yelped.

"Yes." Draco agreed, making a great effort to make his voice civil. "Could I speak to Charlie?" He paused, pushing down revulsion at what he was going to say next. "_Please_?" Potty and Weasel blinked at him, then their mouths dropped open in shock. "Yes, yes, it's the end of the world, hell has frozen over, Typhon is on the rampage and the Yggdrasil has withered and died." He shot at them. "Now can I – _please _– talk to Charlie?"

Weasel was still gaping at him, but Potty shook himself out of it and rose to his feet. This jolted Weasel out of his shock, and he scrambled up to accompany him. A moment later there was a crash from the other room, and Charlie appeared through the door, looking startled and worried. "Dragon?" He asked, and Draco felt something loosen inside him at the sound of the pet name.

"Sorry. Can I come through?" He asked quietly.

"Sure." Charlie agreed quickly.

"One moment then." Draco said, then pulled his head out of the fireplace. He flooed through to the Burrow, and the moment he was through, he found himself wrapped in Charlie's arms. He sank into the embrace and returned it, feeling the terror of the last few days dissipating completely. "Had to get out." Draco murmured to Charlie. "Didn't want-"

"Shh." Charlie interrupted. "I know."

Ron returned from the kitchen, and froze in the doorway. "_Bloody hell!_"


	20. Investigation

_A/N: Ok, writing this one was both fun and difficult. It's hard describing normal, everyday things, but it's fun imagining what characters living spaces look like._

_Also, I like puffskeins. They're cute._

_Word count: 341_

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><p>Draco looked around the room he was in. It was his first day at the Dragon Reserve, and Charlie had been called out to deal with a rogue dragon. Draco didn't particularly want to put himself in unnecessary danger, and Charlie agreed. So Draco was left alone, and he was bored.<p>

Draco rolled onto his stomach and peered under the bed. Something peered back and Draco recoiled. A moment later, he peeked under the bed again. It was a puffskein, lurking under the bed, looking nervous. Draco rolled his eyes. Charlie had a _puffskein_. He got to his feet, ignoring the little ball of fur under the bed, and began to look about Charlie's rooms, wondering what else he might discover about his boyfriend.

He discovered, when he opened the wardrobe, that Charlie liked leather. That was ok. Draco liked leather too, when it was on Charlie. Then he moved on to the living room, with attached kitchenette. He discovered, from the tidy-but-often-used feel of the kitchen, that Charlie could cook, and pretty damn well, Draco realised, when he nibbled at some leftovers he'd found in the fridge. Looking out over the living room, Draco saw that Charlie wasn't a very tidy person, that he followed Quidditch avidly, if the number of recent Quidditch magazines scattered around were any indication, and made woodcarvings as a hobby.

Draco was poking around in the cupboards when Charlie returned. "Draco? What are you doing?" He asked, bemused.

Draco looked round at him and smirked. "Investigating. You have a puffskein." He stated.

Charlie blushed a little. "He used to be Ron's, but he stowed away when I was packing to come here." He shrugged.

Draco chuckled as he stood and dusted his trousers off. "Are you alright?" He asked, looking Charlie up and down, scanning for injuries. There was a little blood on his hand, but he didn't look injured, and there was a small minor burn on his shoulder.

"I'm fine." Charlie said with a smile, and Draco gave a small smile in return.


	21. Desk

_A/N: Ok, I'm really sorry about my sudden disappearance. Let me just say; Real Life is evil, Writer's Block is **worse** than evil, and let's leave it at that._

_Ok, so this little drabble here is DH- and epilogue-compliant. Except that Astoria and Draco got divorced, or separated, or are still married but live in separate houses and don't care what the other gets up to. Enjoy~_

_Word count: 498_

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><p>Charlie pinned Draco to the wall so suddenly that Draco was momentarily lost for words. A moment later, it didn't matter, as Charlie's mouth had descended on his, prising his lips apart with his tongue insistently. Draco realised he was actually a couple of inches taller than Charlie now, but Charlie was still bigger, broader and stronger.<p>

Surprised Draco might have been, but he recovered swiftly, and with style. His hands slid over Charlie's shoulders, one pressing against the flexing muscles of his back, the other tangling in his messy red hair and gripping tightly the way Charlie liked. He bit down on the tongue invading his mouth. Not enough to really hurt, but enough to be properly felt.

Charlie groaned, pressing his crotch against Draco's as he kissed even more furiously than before. Draco felt himself being manoeuvred around, and then he was being pushed down onto his desk. A pot of ink crashed to the floor and smashed, but Draco didn't pay it any mind at all. Because Charlie's hands were roaming his body and he was thrusting his hips against Draco's, and his tongue was battling with his again, and it all felt too good. It had been years since Draco had felt anything like this, and he wanted to lie back and enjoy this sweep of delicious sensations.

"Daddy?"

Charlie jerked back, pulling out of the kiss, and they both turned their heads to look at the doorway. Stood there in his slightly too big pyjamas, clutching the scorpion plushie some relative of Astoria's gave him in an attempt to be humorous, was Scorpius.

Draco realised suddenly, flushing with embarrassment, that he had been about to have sex – on his desk – while Scorpius was only three rooms away. He thumped Charlie on the chest, and the redhead moved backwards hastily, his face almost as red as his hair. "You alright, Scorp?" Draco asked as he straightened up and tried to make his arousal less obvious.

"I heard strange noises and I came to investiage." Scorpius announced, then looked suspiciously at Charlie. "What was Charlie doing?"

Draco cleared his throat and tried to answer with his usual smoothness. "You'll understand when you're older, Scorp." He said lightly.

"I already know about kissing." Scorpius said proudly, and Draco flushed a little more. "Rose says its what adults do when they _reeeaaally_ like each other. But why were you on the desk? Is that some special kind of kissing?"

Draco floundered. Having never even thought to ask his own father these questions, he had no idea how to answer. Charlie came to the rescue. "Yep. It's called French Kissing." He said simply.

"Auntie Fleur is French." Scorpius pointed out.

"So she is." Charlie agreed. "You should ask her about it next time you see her." He added, biting back a smirk.

"Ok!" Scorpius agreed.

"Come on, back to bed, young man." Draco ordered, hiding his own smirk behind a fatherly smile, ushering Scorpius out of the study.


	22. Renaissance

_A/N: This one is a pretty sucky one, in my opinion. It is a little bit of a vent for me cause I was always a little WTF over the fact the Chocolate Frog cards said that Nicholas Flamel was living in Devon. He's a Frenchman, born and bred. I can't imagine him settling down anywhere other than France. Also, having been kicked out of school before I could get even GCSEs, I'm a little vague on what the renaissance actually is. Hence why this focuses more on the lovely Nicholas Flamel (*squee*)_

_Also, although this is only number 22, I do currently have fifty of these little beauties written. Half way to my goal. However, I need more prompts. So, I want to ask you lovely readers out there for prompts. Nice, simple one-word prompts. I can't guarantee I'll write a drabble for the prompt (my muse is a fickle little demon), and even if I do, you probably won't see it for a while (we do have 28 drabbles to go before I catch up with myself). However, I'd like to get to a hundred drabbles, and for that, I need your help. If you think of a prompt, just drop me a review or a PM._

_Well, time to get on with the drabble. Enjoy~_

_Word count: 264_

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><p>Draco stared at his summer homework in complete confusion; specifically, his History of Magic homework. "Explain how the muggle renaissance affected the wizarding world." He read aloud, to make sure his tired brain hadn't misunderstood it. He turned to his notes and flipped through them, searching for a single reference to a 'muggle renaissance'. There wasn't a single one.<p>

"Charlie!" Draco called to the man pottering about in the kitchenette.

"What?" Charlie replied, putting down the bowl he'd been holding and sauntering over to where Draco was sat on the couch, his homework spread out over the coffee table. Draco glared at the offending title of his essay, then switched his glare to his notes, not answering Charlie for a moment. Charlie took this as an invitation to speak. "Ooh, you're doing the muggle renaissance?" He asked cheerfully. "You know Nicholas Flamel was a muggleborn at the beginning of the renaissance." Charlie said helpfully.

"You what? Nicholas Flamel was a _muggleborn_?" Draco yelped.

"Yeah." Charlie nodded.

"It doesn't say that on his Chocolate Frog card." Draco muttered in irritation.

Charlie snorted. "Yeah, well, the Chocolate Frog card also says he's living in _Devon_."

"He isn't?" Draco asked.

"Nicholas Flamel is _French_. He returned to Paris a long time ago, and hasn't moved away since. Though he probably does have a holiday home in Devon." Charlie said with a shrug.

Draco sighed and looked down at the parchment again. "So… what exactly _is_ this renaissance thing?" He asked. Charlie took one look at the earnest confusion in Draco's eyes, sighed, and sat down to explain.


	23. Death

_A/N: Well, I refused to write any full on angst for this drabble, so I'll just say before you even start that neither Charlie nor Draco died in the making of this drabble. And I'm sorry it keeps taking me so long to update. I have no excuse. *bows head* Sorry._

_Enjoy._

_Word count: 414_

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><p>Charlie's fist hit the wall. Pain jolted through his arm, but he barely noticed his torn knuckles as he rested his forehead against the cool stone of Hogwarts castle. Someone put their hand on his shoulder and he shot a tearful glare at his brother, Ron. The only response he got was a small squeeze of his shoulder.<p>

"Is there anything I can get you?" Hermione asked gently. "Something hot to drink, maybe?" She suggested, clearly at a bit of a loss as to how to comfort Charlie, but Charlie just shook his head. "Is there nothing that would help?" She asked. Charlie was about to shake his head again, but a face flashed through his mind, and he bit his lip to hold back a sob. Hermione sensed his hesitation. "What is it, Charlie?"

He laughed weakly, and it came out sounding like a sob. "I want my Dragon." He whispered bitterly, running his undamaged hand over his face.

Hermione's shoulders slumped as she deflated. "I'm sorry, Charlie." She said weakly.

Charlie almost laughed again. She thought he meant the hatchling that had been killed in that day's Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Trampled to death by its own father, and Charlie hadn't been quick enough to save it. "That's not-" He began, but then he just shut up. They didn't know about his Dragon, and he wasn't in the mood for explaining. Besides, getting his Dragon back was looking just as impossible as getting the hatchling back, so what was the point?

There was a timid knock at the door, so quiet Charlie missed it. Harry didn't though, and he got up and opened the door. Charlie saw a flash of blonde. "Malfoy?" Harry asked, his tone defensive, and Charlie looked round, stunned. "What do you want?"

Charlie saw Draco sneer at Harry. "It's no business of _yours_, Potter." He snapped, pushing past Harry and meeting Charlie's gaze. Through the mask of 'Pureblood Malfoy Heir', Charlie saw just how terrified Draco was of being in the same room as, and appearing vulnerable in front of, these three. Ron was bristling, on the verge of exploding into vicious speech, when Charlie shocked him into silence by striding over to Draco and pulling him into a desperate hug.

Draco returned the embrace, closing his eyes to block out the other three. He wasn't here to think about Potty, Weasel and the Mudblood. He was here because Charlie needed him, and the consequences be damned.


	24. Button

_A/N: Draco is a brat. =P But Charlie loves him for it, so it's ok. =P Enjoy~_

_Word count: 474_

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><p>Charlie pinned Draco to the floor of the tent, his weight pressing down on Draco. The blonde had to admit that he rather liked this position. He felt safe and protected when he was all but smothered under Charlie's body. Their mouths met in a furious kiss that was more a mating of tongue and teeth. Charlie's hands ran over Draco's torso, mapping out the contours of his body through his robes.<p>

Draco barely noticed when Charlie's hands met at the neck of his robes. He was a little more aware of the tugging, but there was a pleasant fog of arousal clouding his higher brain functions. A ripping sound, however, cleared his brain, and he broke the kiss. "You ripped my robes." He said incredulously.

"It's just the button." Charlie said, and hastily continued when Draco scowled, opening his mouth to deliver a lecture on just how expensive these robes were. "I'll fix it." He promised, kissing Draco lightly on the lips.

Draco paused, looking surprised. "You can fix it?" He asked incredulously. Charlie nodded, completely certain, but Draco wasn't at all convinced. He tugged his robes over his head, leaving himself bare-chested, and handed the bundle of fabric to Charlie with an expectant look on his face.

"What? Now?" Charlie asked, looking surprised. Draco nodded. For a moment, Charlie looked as if he was on the verge of arguing, but the look on Draco's face was a stubborn one, and he gave in before he'd even opened his mouth. Shaking his head, he drew his wand and summoned the button, which had disappeared into the mess on the floor of Charlie's tent.

The tiny, silver button flew into his outstretched hand. Draco leaned forward a little, interested to see what Charlie did next. A simple 'reparo' was not going to suffice for reattaching a button, especially not on clothes that were made of magical cloth, as Draco's were. But Charlie did not use 'reparo'. He conjured a black thread, and incanted a spell that Draco didn't understand. The thread, moving of its own accord, sewed the button back onto Draco's robes.

"Where did you learn that?" Draco asked curiously.

"My mum." Charlie replied. "When you live on your own in a tent, you find out pretty quick that being able to repair your own clothes is damn useful, especially when dragons keep ripping holes in them."

Draco nodded as Charlie handed him his robe back. He didn't even look at the material as he tossed it aside and wound his arms around Charlie's shoulders. Charlie rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. "It could have waited." He pointed out, lying down again with Draco beneath him and kissing down his now exposed chest. Draco just shrugged, closing his eyes and loosing himself in the pleasant sensation of Charlie's lips on his skin.


	25. Cape

_A/N: This one was difficult, but also fun. Narcissa is always fun to write, and so is bitchy!Draco =P_

_Enjoy~_

_Word count: 392_

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><p>Charlie was staring at the list Draco had presented him with just moments ago. The war was over, and Lucius, so relieved to have Draco alive and well, had – very, very reluctantly – caved to Draco's wish to marry Charlie. Thus wedding preparations had begun. Molly had been insufferable. Narcissa had been worse. Charlie hadn't believed anyone could be worse than his own mother, but Narcissa took the cake.<p>

He did have to admit, though, that Narcissa was exceptionally good at organising everything. Over the past few days, she had burst into their room at the Manor at obscene hours of the morning, uncaring of their state of undress, and ordered them up. She dragged them along to meetings and debates and discussions that had been so brilliantly scheduled that there wasn't a single wasted minute. Of course, it also meant that both Charlie and Draco were exhausted.

"What's this?" Charlie asked, looking up at Draco with a bewildered expression on his face. Draco looked tired and irritable. He'd been bitchy and uncooperative all day, and Charlie didn't think his mood was going to dissipate unless their mothers let up.

Draco huffed and crossed his arms. "The contents of your future wardrobe." He snapped testily, not looking at Charlie.

"My wardrobe's fine as it is." Charlie protested indignantly.

"For Dragon Taming, maybe." Draco agreed sharply. "But not for socialising."

Charlie got a deer-in-the-headlights look. "Socialising?" He asked.

"Yes, Charlie." Draco snapped. "Ministry functions, fund raisers, parties, galas, balls, fetes. Weddings, birthdays, anniversaries, and funerals of people you've never met and don't give a flying fuck about."

Charlie sighed. "I guess this is the price I have to pay, huh?" He mused, scanning the list again. "Ah well, it's worth it." He said casually, and saw Draco flush out of the corner of his eye. As he read the list again, he frowned. "…What's the difference between a cape and a cloak?" He asked, indicating where both were scrawled on the parchment in Narcissa's neat, loopy handwriting.

"Cloaks are practical, have hoods and typically reach the ground." Draco said, sounding bored, but amused at Charlie's ignorance. "Capes are decorative, never have hoods, and never touch the ground." Charlie pulled a face, but didn't complain. Draco certainly seemed to enjoy Charlie's discomfort, and for that, Charlie decided that he'd put up with the stupid list.


	26. Paradox

_A/N: I enjoyed writing this one. I absolutely love Draco's character, and when I was given this prompt, this scene came to me instantly. I hole you like it as much as I do~ =P_

_Word count: 285_

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><p>Lying in bed, basking in the afterglow as he trailed his fingers up and down Draco's spine was one of Charlie's favourite things to do, he decided. Charlie was lying on his side, head held up in one hand, with Draco on his stomach beside him, propped up on his elbows, hands fiddling with the corner of the pillow.<p>

"If you had to describe me in one word… what would it be?" Draco asked suddenly and out of the blue.

Charlie stared at his lover, turning the question over in his mind. How the hell was he supposed to answer that? Draco defied all logic and any attempts to define him. People tried to say he was just a Malfoy, and he turned around and fell in love with a Weasley. People said he was just a Death Eater, and he went ahead and saved Harry Potter's life. People thought he was cold as ice, but Charlie knew he was fiery and passionate.

He was a childish brat and mature beyond his years. He was vulnerable and uncertain and so head-strong and arrogant. He was bossy and submissive. Stubborn and compliant. A completely indecisive control-freak.

The answer occurred to Charlie, and he beamed, rolling closer to Draco to nuzzle between his shoulder blades, planting a kiss on the pale skin. "Paradoxical." He stated brightly.

Draco was silent for a moment, and when he finally did speak, his tone was deadpan. "Should I be flattered or insulted?" He asked dryly.

Grinning against Draco's skin, Charlie answered smoothly. "Think back over the last hour, and you'll have your answer." He told him. Draco hummed in satisfaction and pleasure as Charlie's lips began to wander over his back.


	27. Undertaker

_A/N: Well, this here is actually a very obvious crossover, but I honestly couldn't think of anything else. So, for those of you that do recognise the crossover; enjoy the hilarity~ For those of you that don't recognise the crossover; enjoy it anyway~!_

_Word count: 409_

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><p>Draco was resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he and Charlie approached the junction between Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, where the magical undertaker was located. Apparently, everyone else in the massive Weasley family was too busy, or too distraught to make this trip themselves. <em>Right<em>. Draco thought scathingly as Charlie held the door open for him with a faint, lopsided smirk. Draco lifted his chin a little in response, strutting through the door, which made Charlie chuckle softly.

The room beyond the door was dark and gloomy, which made Draco even more unimpressed. It was also empty, which irritated him. He crossed his arms and turned to Charlie, about to start complaining about how negligent the rest of his family was being. Before he could start, however, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Cookie?" The wizard behind him asked, holding an urn under his nose.

"No, thank you." Draco said in his most disgusted tone, the trademark Malfoy sneer on his lips as he slipped out of the man's hold and retreated to Charlie's side. Apparently, this was highly amusing, because the wizard laughed a little hysterically. Draco shot Charlie a look, and Charlie just shrugged. "You sent word that you needed to speak to someone about Fred Weasley?" Draco prompted, wanting to get out of this nasty place.

"Ah, yes." The undertaker agreed mildly, pulling a cookie out of the urn and nibbling on it. "We have a slight problem." He said slowly, his face turned away slightly, and his tone light and thoughtful, which Draco found highly inappropriate.

"A problem?" Charlie asked, frowning. He wasn't sure his mother could cope with there being a problem.

"Yes…" The undertaker agreed slowly. "You see… Fred Weasley isn't dead."

Charlie stared. So did Draco. The undertaker continued to gaze into the middle distance, unperturbed by the silence that had met his announcement. "What?" Charlie asked eventually.

"Fred Weasley isn't dead." The man repeated mildly. "See for yourself." He added with the most disconcerting grin, gesturing to a curtained doorway, hidden in the shadows at the back of the room. Warily, Charlie strode across the room, and Draco, unwilling to be left alone with the creepy undertaker, followed swiftly behind him. He pushed the curtain aside, and his jaw dropped.

Fred was sat in a coffin, legs dangling over the side, an urn in his lap, munching on cookies. "Bloody well took you long enough." He announced, grinning.


	28. Jumper

_A/N: I cann__ot **believe** I missed Draco's birthday. I'm so mad at myself right now, not to mentio__n Windows Calendar, which **should** have alerted me on the fifth that it was, in fact, Draco's birthday. Oh well, what's done is done, I guess. So, Happy Belated Birthday to Draco, and in celebration, I'll be uploading a bunch of these. Haven't quite decided how many, but anywhere between three and eight, I think.  
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_This drabble was actually rather easy to write. I loved the prompt, and the story flowed surprisingly well. Enjoy~  
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_Word count: 472  
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><p>Draco woke tangled up with a naked Charlie. He smirked smugly as he stretched, before he rolled over and kissed Charlie awake. "Morning." He said cheerfully. Charlie blinked blearily at him, looking on the verge of going back to sleep. "Merry Christmas." Draco added, and a smile slowly spread across Charlie's face. Draco wouldn't have chosen to spend Christmas at the Burrow, but his parents had decided that they needed a holiday, and had gone off to France, and Charlie hadn't been invited. So Draco was at the Burrow for Christmas.<p>

When Charlie was awake enough to function – which took several more kisses and a promise of even more later – they dressed themselves in a mismatched combination of loose trousers, pyjamas and dressing-gowns, and headed downstairs for breakfast and presents.

The living room of the Burrow was full to bursting, with people spilling over into the kitchen. Besides Molly, Arthur, Charlie and himself, there was also Bill and his wife, Fleur, along with Percy, the twins, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Teddy and Andromeda. Harry had put himself on present duty, and was sat at the base of the large Christmas tree with little Teddy, entertaining the baby by tickling him with a trailing bit of tinsel.

The presents were handed out, and paper was soon strewn everywhere as the unwrapping frenzy began. Draco was pleased with what he got. Books, clothes, a new Wizards Chess set, flying gloves from Charlie, and…

Draco stared in shock at the rich turquoise… thing in his hands, unable to quite comprehend what he was looking at. Charlie looked up from his own hand-knitted monstrosity – his striped with red, orange and yellow – and beamed when he saw the sweater in Draco's hands. "Aw, mum!" He said happily. "You made Draco one too!"

This got everyone's attention, and they all looked at Draco. He had never felt like hexing Charlie more. Mrs. Weasley smiled and patted Charlie's shoulder. "Well he's part of the family, now, isn't he?" She asked lightly.

The twins got matching evil grins on their faces, and Draco recoiled slightly. "Put it on!" Fred ordered immediately.

"It's the rule!" George added. "Everyone has to wear their jumper on Christmas day!"

When Draco tried to protest, the twins pounced on him and wrestled him into his hand-knitted Weasley sweater. They got a black eye, a split lip and several bruises between them, but they decided it was worth it. They moved back and everyone got a look at the disgruntled, dishevelled Draco Malfoy in one of Molly's sweaters, which was a bit too big for him, his hands hidden from view and his arms crossed over his chest in a huff.

"I promise I'll help you get it off later." Charlie said with a smirk, and Draco's bad mood evaporated like it had never been there.


	29. Socks

_A/N: Drabble number two for Draco's birthday. Another wintery-themed one, ironically. I don't know why, but I love the idea of Molly Weasley teaching Charlie how to darn socks. Enjoy~_

_Word count: 471_

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><p>"I hate winter." Draco complained, sniffing as his pink nose ran a little. He was huddled up on the sofa, in front of the fire, with several thick blankets wrapped around his shoulders and draped over his knees. He shifted a little, and the blanket over his knees moved, revealing his toes. He quickly shifted, and curled his feet up onto the couch, tucking them under him to keep them warm.<p>

Charlie looked at Draco in incredulous amusement. He himself barely felt the cold, wrapped up as he was in an old Christmas jumper, fingerless gloves, and thick woollen socks. But Draco refused to wear any of Charlie's jumpers, and he didn't have any gloves of his own. "You could put some fluffy socks on?" he suggested.

Draco shot him a contemptuous look, then frowned in consideration. Charlie chuckled softly, which earned him a glare from his lover before the young man's shoulders slumped. "Fine." He agreed. "But you go get them. I wouldn't know where to look."

This was a barefaced lie, Charlie knew. Draco probably knew his room better than Charlie himself did, and he certainly knew where Charlie kept his socks. "Right." Charlie agreed, showing his scepticism, even as he stood from his place in the armchair and fetching the neatest pair of socks he owned. When he returned to the living room, he saw that Draco had settled himself in the armchair Charlie had just vacated, and was ensconced so completely that Charlie knew there was absolutely no hope of shifting him.

"Here." He said in amusement, holding out the socks. Instead of taking them, Draco simply poked his feet out of the warm cocoon of blankets and looked expectantly at Charlie. With a sigh, Charlie knelt down in front of Draco, and slipped one sock on. Before he slid the other on, he attempted to get revenge by tickling Draco, but there was absolutely no response. He looked up in surprise. "You're not ticklish." He stated in surprise. _Everyone_ was ticklish on the soles of their feet.

"Actually, I am." Draco replied with a wry twist of his lips. "I'm just very good at controlling my reaction." He added as Charlie slid the second sock on. He lifted his feet a little and wiggled his toes. Then he pulled a face. "Are those… patches?" He asked, looking at the much newer-looking wool covering the toes of the socks.

"Darning." Charlie corrected absently.

Draco pulled a face and hid his feet under the blanket again, snuggling deeper into the plush armchair with a petulant expression on his face. Charlie kissed him lightly, to which Draco responded readily, before he flopped length-ways onto the couch, stretching contentedly. Draco laughed, and Charlie tilted his head back to look at him upside down, with a grin plastered on his face.


	30. Childhood Stories

_A/N: This one's a little angsty, but I guess it falls more under the 'hurt/comfort' category. But I do absolutely love digging into Draco's psychology. Kudos to JKR for making her characters feel so very real. Because Draco really does feel real to me. Really real. =P I'll shut up now._

_Enjoy~_

_Word count: 500_

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><p>The tension inside Draco was rising. He was stood in the Weasley's living room, trying not to listen as they reminisced about their childhood. Teasing comments were thrown about by the 'kids' while Molly switched between fond amusement and lingering irritation, and Arthur just smiled nostalgically.<p>

Draco did not do 'upset' very well. Whenever he started getting upset he'd switch straight to bitchy, and he really didn't want to take out his foul mood on any of the Weasleys. They were still on shaky terms after the war, and he didn't want to remind them of why they hated him.

"And _then-_" Charlie said, tears of laughter in his eyes. "-Dad climbed the tree to get the twins and _he_ got stuck." He explained, to more laughter all around. "Of course, that's when Fred and George just jump out of the tree, casual as you please, and Dad had to apparate down."

Draco realised he would not be able to listen to this any longer, and he discretely turned and left the room, slipping through the kitchen and out into the back yard. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, looking at the stars, before he felt a familiar hand sliding over his stomach as Charlie embraced him from behind. "What's the matter?" He asked softly.

Draco gritted his teeth against the barrage of nasty words that wanted to come pouring out. "Couldn't stand in there and listen-" He began, then cut himself off. "It was nauseatingly _cute_." He spat, then immediately regretted it.

But Charlie just hugged Draco a little tighter. "What's the matter?" He asked again.

Tears stung Draco's eyes, but they wouldn't fall. He was silent for a moment, then burst into speech. "The only time I ever felt even remotely '_bonded_' with my father was when he _hexed_ me, and Mother was fucking yelling at him, and we were both fucking _shit scared_ of her!" Draco had stared out talking harshly, but by the end he was yelling. "And I get so _angry_, listening to you and your stories of how fucking _happy_ you all were!"

"But you're not angry at us." Charlie stated. Draco opened his mouth to yell that _yes he was, damnit_, but the words wouldn't come. "You're angry at your dad for being cold and unreachable. For setting the standard so high that you could never hope to reach it. For never acting like he loved you." Charlie continued, and with every word, Draco got angrier. He turned in Charlie's hold and tried to punch him, but Charlie grabbed his wrist. The look on his face could have been pity, but it was softer, warmer and more tender. "It's ok to be angry at him, Draco." Charlie said softly. "I'll keep you safe." He promised.

Draco's eyes widened, and a tear slid down his cheek. He started to tremble. Then the dam broke, and he curled into Charlie's chest as his lover embraced him, crying harder than he'd ever cried before.


	31. Ticks

_A/N: Sorry for the week-long wait. I've been busy making my new blog. There's not much there at the moment, but I hope, soon enough, I'll have this series and Inherited War up there, plus a few other multi-chaptered pieces I've been sitting on. Please excuse me while I shamelessly advertise: it's at "setari pendragon . word press . com" minus the spaces. Take a look, tell me what you think!  
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_And now, on to the drabble~! Enjoy!_

_Word count: 296_

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><p>"Draco! Draco, hold still." Charlie insisted. They had stepped into the shower together, after a long and tiring couple of days out on the reserve, hunting down an injured dragon so they could stun and heal it. They were relishing the fact that they had access to running water again, instead of having to rely on quick cleaning spells.<p>

Draco, being contrary, squirmed out of Charlie's reach. "Why?" He demanded.

"There's something-" Charlie began, indicating Draco's side. Draco lifted his arm and looked down. There, just above his hipbone, was a small black dot. Now that Draco was standing still, Charlie knelt down and looked close. "I thought so." He said with a sigh. "It's only a tick." He assured Draco. "We'll put some stuff on it when we get out, and it'll be gone in a couple of days." He added, when he caught sight of Draco's horrified expression.

"A _tick_?" He asked, looking both repulsed and horrified in equal measure. A shudder ran the length of his spine. "Ugh…"

"They're not that bad." Charlie said, a little bewildered. "You get them all the time, working here. You get used to them after a while. Nothing to do, really, except slap a bit of ointment on them and stick a plaster over them until they suffocate and drop off."

"It's not that." Draco said, still squirming in discomfort. "It's just… disgusting. This creepy little monster's got its teeth into me and is _drinking my blood_. It's like an underdeveloped vampire, and it's _disgusting_." He said again, with more emphasis.

Charlie shook his head, laughing with bemusement. "You'll get used to them soon enough." He said cheerfully.

"No I fucking well won't." Draco replied stubbornly, refusing to look at the little black spot on his hip.


	32. Feathers

_A/N: This one really didn't want to be a drabble, but I squished it down to 500 words. I lovelovelove the Weasley twins ^w^ And I love making Draco feel all awkward and stunned due to Molly's easy acceptance of him =P_

_Anyway, enjoy~_

_Word count: 500_

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><p>Draco had been attempting to handle his fifth dinner with the whole Weasley clan. <em>Had<em>, being the operative word. About fifteen minutes into the meal, he had suddenly sprouted bright yellow feathers. There was a single moment of silence, but then the entire table burst into laughter. Only Charlie wasn't laughing. When Draco met his eyes, his lover offered him an apologetic smile.

He gave a huffy squawk, that was _meant_ to have been a snappy, angry comment about the stupid, foolish and completely tasteless prank, and was about to leave the table. Before he could, Mrs. Weasley got to her feet. "_Boys_!" She said sharply, looking angry. Her children sobered up immediately, though it seemed to take some effort on Ron's part. They all turned to look at her, as did Draco. She was glaring at the twins. "Did you do this?" She demanded angrily.

"In this instance, we are completely innocent." George said succinctly, closing his eyes and holding his hands up in a gesture of placation.

"Well, not completely." Fred put in thoughtfully.

George glanced at his twin. "That is true." He agreed reluctantly. "We did invent the Canary Creams, after all."

"But!" Fred put in, wagging his fork at his mother. "We didn't slip one into Malfoy's food."

"No." George agreed. "We might have _wanted_ to, but we're not suicidal."

This gave Mrs. Weasley pause. "Suicidal?"

"Yeah." Fred nodded. "We love a good prank, especially on family-"

"-but Charlie told us, on no uncertain terms, that if we pranked Malfoy-" George continued.

"-he'd feed us to the Horntails." Fred finished bluntly.

"I warned _everyone_." Charlie said, looking highly annoyed as he swept his gaze over everyone at the table. Bill was easy to rule out, as were Fleur and his parents. Percy, too, would not indulge in such childish antics, even if he had redeveloped a sense of humour since the end of the war. Charlie knew the twins well enough to know when they were bullshitting, and he believed they were telling the truth about their innocence. That left Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny. Hermione was ruled out for the same reason as Percy, and Harry had never seemed the type to enjoy pranking people. He was perfectly happy to watch pranks happening, and enjoyed them, but he didn't have the makings of a prankster.

So Charlie fixed his glare on Ron and Ginny. Mrs. Weasley, too, rounded on her two youngest. "Well?" She demanded into the silence. "Which of you did it?"

She was looking at Ron, who quailed, looking nervous. This was as good as a confession. Charlie knew his brother well enough to know that if he had been innocent, he would have been angrily protesting the accusation. "Ron!" Charlie snapped furiously, but Mrs. Weasley's shouts drowned him out.

"RONALD BILLIUS WEASLEY! YOU APOLOGISE TO YOUR BROTHER-IN-LAW RIGHT NOW!"

There was a faint pop, and the yellow feathers cascaded to the ground, revealing a blushing, utterly stunned, and vaguely bashful Draco Malfoy.


	33. Paint

_A/N: This one was the product of not enough sleep and too much sugar and caffine. Symphonic Rock and Skinny Jeans. Awesome combo. But still, don't ask me what I was thinking when I wrote this, because I honestly don't know. XD_

_Word count: 467_

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><p>Charlie looked around the Manor that was his new home for about the hundredth time in the last hour. Lucius had transferred the title of Head of the Family to Draco the moment Draco turned twenty one, and Draco was now obligated to live in the Manor, rather than at the Reserve, where he had been living since the end of the war. Lucius and Narcissa had moved into the West Wing of the Manor, leaving the main house to Draco and Charlie.<p>

Charlie had taken a month off from work at the Reserve to get settled into the Manor, which even Draco admitted was creepy. Sighing and shaking his head, Charlie left the 'front room' he'd been looking at – Draco had told him to change it however he liked, but Charlie didn't even know what to change, let alone how – and went looking for Draco.

He found him in the master bedroom. He heard a magical music player pounding out one of the Wizarding classics, redone in symphonic rock by the Weird Sisters. He pushed open the door and stopped dead. Draco was dressed in – heaven forbid – a pair of jeans and an old Weasley sweater Molly had knitted him a few Christmases ago. The room was draped in white, paint-stained sheets, and Draco had a paintbrush tucked behind his ear, one in his mouth, and one in his hand. He was decorating the walls with what was obviously magical colour-changing paint, and wiggling his hips in time with the music in a way that did strange things to Charlie's stomach.

He had to notice that the jeans – faded black skinny jeans which looked unbearably good on the slender blonde – were a bit tight, and Charlie had the sudden, irresistible urge to give Draco's arse a good groping. He walked over to his lover with surprisingly light steps, a skill he developed during his training at the Reserve, and paused behind him. Draco still hadn't noticed him.

Charlie reached out and goosed Draco, who jumped about a foot in the air with a muffled squeak, and he streaked black paint over the mauve walls. After a moment, the unintentional stripe faded into mauve too. Draco rounded on Charlie, blushing and frazzled, his blond hair hanging in his eyes. He grabbed the paintbrush in his mouth in his free hand and glared at Charlie. "Charlie!" He reprimanded, eyes snapping in defensive anger. Charlie just grinned, unrepentant. "You were supposed to be sorting out the front room." He said, narrowing his eyes.

Charlie shrugged. "Nothing much to do, really." He said casually.

Draco rolled his eyes, and thrust the second paintbrush at Charlie. "Well, make yourself useful." He grumbled, but Charlie knew he wasn't really in a bad mood, so didn't worry and turned to the walls, grinning.


	34. Chocolate Frogs

_A/N: This is one of my favourite drabbles that I've written so far! I love this one to pieces and I don't really know why. I hope you like it as much as I do! ^w^_

_I want to say that I am so, _so, SO_ sorry about the long wait between drabbles. Funnily enough, the holidays are the times I find I have least time to write, and over the last month, I've barely been on the internet at all. Again, I'm very sorry, and it looks like there might be another wait coming your way. I'm a bit clogged up until the end of August..._

_Also, just quickly, I'd like to take a moment for some more shameless self-advertising. I've just uploaded a Charlie X Draco fic, "First Time" onto my blog ("setaripendragon . wordpress . com"), and I doubt I'll be putting it up here as it 'violates the terms and conditions', seeing as it has sex in it. *bites back rant*_

_Word count: 479_

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><p>Draco settled into his seat on the Hogwarts Express, watching miserably through the window as Hogsmeade disappeared into the distance. He had been allowed to return to Hogwarts to redo his last year, under certain conditions, anyway. He was definitely grateful for the second chance, but he really didn't want to go home for Christmas.<p>

He spent the whole first half of the journey brooding about how awful his parents would be. His mother would fuss and touch him as if to reassure herself he was still there, and still ok. His father would avoid talking to him, looking sad and apologetic, and drown himself in alcohol. He didn't want to go home to _that_. Even the building was less welcoming than it should be. The Dark Lord had left his mark on the place in Draco's memories, and he no longer felt safe there.

The compartment door was opened by the lady who pushed the lunch trolley, but Draco was too depressed even for sweets, and waved her off before she'd even asked if he wanted anything. He was just sinking back into his brooding when the compartment door opened yet again and Blaise, Pansy and Theo piled in.

"Stop _moping_, Draco." Pansy said briskly, throwing a Chocolate Frog at his face, which he fumbled with before grabbing hold of. He glared at Pansy, who completely ignored him and sat primly opposite him. "Go on, eat your frog." Pansy encouraged, waving her hand at him.

Petulantly, Draco opened the packet and grabbed the frog before it could leap away. He bit off its head viciously, feeling a little better once he'd eaten it. Absently, he plucked the card out. He wasn't too interested in it, but he looked anyway.

He flipped the card over and felt his stomach do something very odd. Charlie Weasley's likeness was gazing up at him, grinning. Charlie winked at him, then slid his hand very deliberately into the front pocket of his tight dragon-leather trousers. Draco swallowed, and flipped the card over to read what it said.

'_Charlie Weasley_

_ The second eldest Weasley child was assigned to bring in foreign wizards to help the Order of the Phoenix during the Second Rising of Voldemort. He works in Romania on the Dragon Reserve there, and has worked there since he left Hogwarts, where he played seeker for Gryffindor._'

Draco turned the card back over and smiled a little when Charlie grinned at him. He didn't see Pansy, Theo and Blaise exchanging looks. "Who did you get then?" Pansy asked casually, prodding Draco with her toes.

Draco's expression immediately became indifferent. "Charlie Weasley." He drawled with a small sneer. This time, he saw the look Pansy and Blaise exchanged. "What?" He snapped harshly.

Pansy beamed at him. "Nothing! Nothing! Hey, did I tell you Blaise has a new girlfriend?" She asked eagerly, changing the subject.


	35. Symbols

_A/N: Well, I'm back again. I finally managed to get a few days to myself, and of course, that's right when Real Life decided to rear it's ugly head. Between suddenly realising I only have two months until NaNoWriMo, drama at college, and a small case of minor nervous breakdowns, I've had trouble finding the time or the motivation to update._

_TLDR: I'm sorry I took so long to update *hangs head in shame*_

_This one is a little lacking in actually Charlie/Draco-ness, but I hope you enjoy it all the same ^^"_

_Word count: 478_

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><p>Draco's task that morning was to make sure the orphaned eggs in the hatchery were all the right temperature and not damaged or hatching early. There were only five eggs in the hatchery this year, a bunch of four from a Romanian Longhorn that had been forced away from her eggs by another dragon, and a single silvery Arctic Moonstorm egg whose mother had died. Each egg was nestled in a small nest of woven grasses and other natural items, and he was forced to check each manually, as it was not advisable to use magic around dragon eggs and hatchlings. It disturbed them and made them restless.<p>

Some of the eggs were rocking slightly, and Draco noted it down on the scroll kept near each nest. Those eggs would likely be hatching soon. One of the Longhorn eggs needed to be warmed up, and Draco swiftly moved it closer to the heater running along the back wall.

Lastly he came to the Arctic Moonstorm egg, and ran his hands over it. It was colder than the others, but that was to be expected. Absently, Draco trailed his fingers over the membrane of the egg. A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he removed his hands from the egg and then very deliberately traced a rune over the shell. Ehwaz, the rune of friendship. The egg twitched.

Surprised, Draco pulled his hands back, but the egg didn't move again. Carefully, Draco drew the rune again with his finger. The egg vibrated and he heard a tiny squeak. A little in awe, Draco did it again. The egg wobbled, and toppled out of the nest towards him. "Whoa-" He gasped, catching the egg before it could hit the ground.

"Careful." Charlie's voice came from behind him.

Draco looked round as he settled the egg back in its nest. "Hey, Charlie." He greeted, looking back to the egg thoughtfully.

"That one nearly ready to hatch?" Charlie asked, walking over to join him, and running his hand over the shell. He frowned. "This one shouldn't be shifting around for another couple of weeks." He said.

"She wasn't doing, not until…" Draco trailed off, deciding it would be easier to show Charlie than explain.

"She?" Charlie questioned mildly as he watched Draco reach out and trace a symbol onto the shell with his right index finger. There was a loud squeak from the egg, and it jolted towards Draco, who was ready for the sudden move this time, and had his hands close to stop it toppling over again.

"Did I say she?" Draco asked, just as surprised as Charlie had been.

"Yeah." Charlie agreed. "What did you draw?" He asked.

"Ehwaz. The rune for friendship." Draco replied.

Charlie arched his eyebrows. "I think… you ought to make her your special project."

Draco looked at him, frowning. "Her?" He asked, surprised.

"Yeah."


	36. Wasps

_A/N: I don't really have much to say about this one. Just a little bit of mildly fluffy reminiscing for you. Enjoy~_

_Word count: 483_

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><p>Draco looked out over the gardens of Malfoy Manor. It was so odd being back here, after living for the last half a dozen years at the Dragon Reserve. He hadn't come back even for a visit in all that time, unable to face the memories the place now held.<p>

A warm hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to smile sadly at Charlie. He was infinitely glad to have Charlie with him here and now. His comfort and support was probably the only reason he'd been able to face coming back. His mother had fallen ill, and his father was struggling to fight off depression and drowning his guilt in alcohol, as he had been since the end of the war. Narcissa had asked Draco to come home to take care of the Manor, but he knew she meant to take care of his father.

Draco sighed and leaned his forearms on the railing surrounding the small raised porch at the back of the house. He gazed out over the neat lawns, edged on one side by the garden maze, with the forest where the Aethonian Horses roamed off in the distance ahead of him. His mother's herb garden – not that she ever actually tended to it – was peeking out from round the house to the right. A little way off, a small covered pavilion was stood, where he had often done his summer homework with his mother seated nearby, reading one of those trashy Fifi LaFolle novels.

"See that pavilion?" Draco asked softly, pointing.

"Yeah?" Charlie breathed, his hand smoothing up and down Draco's spine over the top of his pale blue dress shirt.

"When I was about six, I made a card for my mother's birthday, and I ran over there to show her… and as I climbed up the steps, I trod on a wasp." He said, chuckling a little. He could almost see his younger self, eagerly sprinting as fast as his little legs could carry him across the lawn to the pavilion, where a younger, less worn Narcissa was sat, taking tea in the shade. He reached the top step of the three leading up from the lawn to the floor of the pavilion before the pain in his foot registered.

"Ouch." Charlie said, and Draco knew he'd winced from the way his hand paused on his back before continuing to move. "That must've hurt."

"It did." Draco agreed. "But the way I was crying and wailing, you would've thought my whole foot had just been chopped off." He pointed out with a self-deprecating chuckle. Charlie laughed as well, and kissed his cheek.

"At least you're not as bad as Ginny." Charlie said, his tone laced with laughter. "When she was four, she saw a wasp on the wall, and smacked it with her hand to try and kill it." Draco snorted, then laughed as well.


	37. Royalty

_A/N: I'm getting back into the swing of updating more regularly. It does help that I have so little to do that any excuse to avoid the boredom for a little while is exciting. Even tidying my room... O.o So please enjoy this fluffy little piece of Charlie X Draco, and review, because reviews brighten my otherwise very boring days like you would't believe._

_Word count: 226_

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><p>Draco made a soft sound as he woke, aware of the lips trailing over his neck and jaw. "Char?" He murmured sleepily, not even bothering to open his eyes.<p>

He felt Charlie smile against his skin, and a moment later, Charlie kissed him on the lips, gently coaxing him into responding. Unwillingly, but not unhappily, Draco complied, slinging an arm over Charlie's shoulder. After a long, lazy kiss, Charlie pulled back. "Happy Birthday." He said, grinning down at Draco, whose eyes were only half open.

It took Draco a moment to work out what Charlie meant, but then a smile curled his lips and he pulled Charlie down for another kiss. When they broke apart, their lips still only an inch or two apart, he murmured "I like waking up like this."

"Good." Charlie replied, sitting up and letting Draco do the same. He rearranged the pillows so Draco could lean back against them. Then he reached over and grabbed his wand from the bedside table, and summoned a large pile of presents. "Here you go, your majesty." He said, levitating the pile onto the bed.

"'Your majesty' is it?" Draco asked with a smirk, reaching for the topmost present.

"Just for today." Charlie replied warmly, nuzzling Draco's neck and kissing lightly at the skin.

"My birthday should come more often." Draco decided, making Charlie laugh.


	38. Paranoia

_A/N: Sorry about the long wait for this one ^^" But I have to say, I like this one. A combination of a disturbed little Draco-psyche and making up new breeds of dragons makes this one of my favourites =P Enjoy~_

_Word Count: 390_

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><p>"Guess what, Draco!" Charlie said brightly, bounding over to his lover. The war was long over and Draco, sick of the prejudices against him in England, had moved to Romania. It hadn't healed him straight away – of course it hadn't – but a mixture of Charlie's love and the distance between his memories gave Draco the space he needed to begin the arduous task of healing the wounds the war had caused in his fragile psyche.<p>

"What?" Draco asked, unwilling right now to play the guessing game.

Charlie came to a stop beside the sofa Draco was draped over, and the young blonde man saw the wide smile on Charlie's face. He felt his heart lift just through proximity to such boundless enthusiasm, even as he was simultaneously exhausted by it. "They're importing in a Sleekstream!" He declared, evidently expecting Draco to be just as pleased as he was.

But Draco wasn't. He loved dragons, he really did, though perhaps not as much as Charlie, but the Italian Sleekstreams were the one breed he couldn't bear to be around. "Oh." He said quietly, his eyes lowering from Charlie's face, which quickly fell into lines of concern.

"Draco? What is it?" He asked, walking around the sofa and perching himself on the table.

Draco plastered a false smile on his face. "It's nothing." He said in a very convincing voice. But Charlie didn't fall for it, and just raised an eyebrow. "I-" Draco began in frustration. "I don't like snakes, ok?" He said eventually, and Charlie opened his mouth. "I _know_ they aren't actually snakes, but they _look_ like it, ok? No legs and those transparent wings!" He swallowed. "They look like-" He faltered, and said no more.

"Like…?" Charlie prompted gently, covering Draco's hand with his own, larger, freckled one.

"Like Nagini." Draco whispered, and shudder running through him even at the sound of the name. Charlie made a soft sound of understanding, and then he pulled Draco into a tight, warm hug. "I still have nightmares about that fucking snake, you know." He murmured, for Charlie's ears only. Charlie's hold on him tightened, and his lips pressed against Draco's neck. Draco smiled a little, and though it was a tired little expression, it was also soft and tender. He wrapped his arms around Charlie's broad shoulders and returned the embrace.


	39. Sailing

_A/N: I like this one, even though it feels a little bland. Maybe it's just my imagination, though... *shrugs* Well, whatever, hope you enjoy it!_

_Word count: 312_

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><p>Charlie sat with his back against a tree, and Draco nestled between his legs. The blonde was leaning back against his chest, his head on Charlie's shoulder, his eyes half lidded and a soft smirk curling his lips. "How was your summer?" Draco asked eventually, tracing random swirls on Charlie's forearm, which was wrapped around Draco's torso, his hands linked over Draco's stomach.<p>

"Hectic." Charlie replied. "High summer is the mating season, and then, right after, the females get broody. It's a nightmare." He said with a roll of his eyes, but Draco could see in his expression that Charlie didn't mean it. He loved running around after his dragons. Draco smirked at the thought, and bit back an evil cackle. "Yours?" Charlie shot back, unaware of Draco's devious thoughts.

"Good. Mother and Father took me to the south of France for a while. It was great fun." He announced, his voice a little more pompous than usual. Charlie chuckled. "We went sailing." He added happily. He'd enjoyed being on the sailboat, out in the sun, with the sea air and sweet drinks whenever he wanted them.

"Sailing, huh?" Charlie echoed, looking intrigued. "I've never really given much thought to sea-travel, but that sounds like it could be fun." He mused.

"It was." Draco agreed eagerly.

"You'll have to teach me some time." Charlie decided.

Draco faltered. He hadn't, truthfully, done any actual sailing over the summer. True, he had been on a sail boat, but he, a Malfoy, do anything that might constitute actual work? Never. The house-elves had sailed the boat. He and his parents had simply lounged around on deck, looking good and feeling invincible.

Charlie gave him a sideways look, and Draco smirked up at him. "Sure." He agreed, and Charlie grinned. Draco resolved then to learn how to sail, preferably before Charlie realised he'd been misleading him.


	40. Haircut

_A/N: I am SO SORRY . My only excuse is that NaNoWriMo ate my soul. Really sorry. . I hope you like the drabble!_

_Word count: 379_

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><p>Charlie had never thought he'd enjoy being 'domestic', but sometimes he found that the little, typical-relationship things he did with Draco meant more to him than any specially planned date or expensive present. They were sitting in bed together, with Draco sat up reading a thick tome on some obscure branch of magic, leaning back against Charlie's chest as Charlie read little snippets over his shoulder.<p>

Absently, he twirled a strand of Draco's white-blonde hair around his finger, tugging slightly before smoothing it back amongst the rest. He did it again, without even thinking, and didn't see Draco's lazy smile as he was trying to work out what the hell Draco's book was talking about now. "I need a haircut." Draco stated mildly, grabbing a bookmark off the bedside table and slipping it in between the pages and closing the book.

"Huh?" Charlie looked at Draco out of the corner of his eye as the blonde man put the book on the bedside table. He took in Draco's hair, which was long enough to need tying back on occasion, and was just brushing his shoulders. "I kind of like it like this." Charlie announced lightly, nuzzling his nose into the blonde strands and kissing the side of Draco's head.

Draco laughed a little, and picked up his wand and gave it a flick, dimming the lights until there was only a faint glow permeating the darkness of the room. "I don't." He said, and though his tone was mild, Charlie picked up on something odd in the undercurrents of Draco's voice.

"Why not?" Charlie asked softly as they lay down. He tugged the duvet up over Draco's shoulder and brushed a strand of hair off his cheek. There was a long silence, and Charlie began to realise that there was more to this issue than he'd thought. "What's wrong?" He whispered, nuzzling his nose against Draco's as he draped his arm over the slighter man's waist.

He felt Draco shrug. "…I…" Draco began, then faltered and fell silent again. Charlie didn't speak, but kissed Draco's nose in encouragement. He heard Draco sigh, and then a soft, fragile whisper reached his ears. "I don't want to become my father." Draco confessed.

And Charlie understood.

"We can get it cut tomorrow."


	41. Owls

_N/A: This one isn't one of my favourites, but it's good enough, I guess. Just a silly little something involving Draco's eagle-owl._

_Word count: 276_

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><p>"Charlie!"<p>

Blinking his eyes open, Charlie grumbled unintelligibly as he heaved himself into a sitting position. "WHAT?" He yelled back to whoever it was that was pounding on his door.

"Get your lazy butt out here and stop Draco's owl attacking us!"

That woke Charlie up more effectively. He swung himself out of bed and tugged on some trousers before slipping out of his rooms and coming face to face with Sorin, who looked like Draco's owl had done her best to take a chunk out of his ear. He whistled lowly. "Whoa… What did you do?" He asked, more amused than sympathetic.

"_Bianca_ tried to take the letter." Sorin grumbled pointedly as they hurried down the corridor into the communal lounge, which was in chaos. Perched on the back of Charlie's – and Draco's – favourite armchair was Draco's owl, Diana. She had her wings spread in an impressive display and was glaring at the assembled dragon tamers with fierce amber eyes.

Charlie approached her slowly. As he did, the others drew back even more than they had been already, and Diana seemed to calm down, folding her wings and giving one warning hoot. Ever so carefully, Charlie began to stroke the feathers of her back and she stuck out her leg to offer him the scroll she held in one claw.

Taking it, Charlie unrolled it and read Draco's letter. He laughed, then spoke in a low voice to Diana. "Will you wait so I can write a reply?" He asked, and Diana bobbed her head.

"What does it say?" Bianca asked curiously, and Diana gave an irritated screech.

Charlie grinned. "It just says good morning."


	42. News

_A/N: Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year, everyone. Gonna upload a couple of drabbles for you to celebrate, so yeay._

_This drabble was fun to write, but difficult. The sentiment I wanted to get across really didn't want to be condensed into 500 or less words, so the last couple of bits of speech are laden with subtext (which is kind of weird for me, seeing as I'm actually really bad at picking up on those kinds of things...)._

_Word count: 400_

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><p>Draco liked living with Charlie, he decided as he was presented with a plate of scrambled eggs on toast for breakfast. Everything was so different, but he liked it. There was a lot less space than he was used to, for example, but he liked the way that he always knew exactly where Charlie was because he could hear him. There were certainly no house elves, which meant Draco had to keep his own things neat and tidy, which had been a trial, but one that Draco had risen to spectacularly. He <em>hated<em> mess.

Not to mention, Charlie was a brilliant cook, Draco added as he took a bite of his scrambled eggs. "Is it good?" Charlie asked, sitting himself beside Draco on the couch – another difference; Narcissa would have pitched a fit if Draco had eaten anything while sat on her designer couches – and starting on his own breakfast.

"Of course it is." Draco shot back with a roll of his eyes. Charlie grinned.

At that moment, an owl swooped in the open window and dropped a newspaper on the table before flying off again. Draco snatched up the newspaper and flicked it open, eyes skating over the headline. "Anything important?" Charlie asked. Draco shook his head and buried himself in the newspaper, reading any article that caught his interest. About ten minutes later, Draco burst out laughing. Charlie looked up. "What?" He asked.

Draco shook his head as he folded up the newspaper. "They're picking on Potty something awful." He said through snickers of vindictive pleasure. Charlie rolled his eyes in amusement and banished his plate to the sink with a wave of his wand. "Dumbledore too." Draco added as an afterthought.

Charlie chuckled and wrapped an arm around Draco. "But who cares about that when the majority of the population thinks Harry's a lying delinquent, right?" He asked mildly.

Draco nodded happily, but then looked at Charlie out of the corner of his eyes. "Doesn't it bother you? That I don't like Potter when you obviously do?" He asked curiously.

With a smile, Charlie squeezed Draco's shoulders, kissed his cheek, then stood up, moving into the kitchen to wash up. "Not really. Does it bother you that I don't much like that Parkinson girl?" He asked.

"No." Draco said with a shrug. "You don't have to like Pansy."

Charlie turned to shoot a grin at Draco. "Exactly."


	43. Dog

_A/N: Yeay for flashbacks! This little scene has actually been in my head since forever, and I was really pleased when I got this prompt and could write it out!_

_Word count: 318_

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><p>Draco could only stare at the little bundle of golden fur in his arms. After what felt like an age, he looked up at Charlie, who had just deposited the puppy in his arms. "Happy eighteenth birthday?" Charlie offered with a wry grin. Stunned, Draco looked back down at the puppy. It looked back with large brown eyes, its pink tongue sticking out.<p>

_He and Charlie were visiting one of Charlie's friends in Romania. The man was a retired Dragon Tamer and had shown Charlie the ropes when he first arrived at the Reserve. They heard barking after they knocked on the door, and as they were let into the house, they were greeted by a large grey and black dog, which was sniffing at them and making it difficult to move any further into the house by blocking the hallway._

_ Draco, though a little wary of the large animal, let it sniff his hands, then began scratching his ears. The dog clearly appreciated it because its tail began wagging. They finally managed to get inside, and the dog refused to leave Draco alone. In return, Draco was perfectly willing to pet the dog whenever it wanted._

_ As they were leaving, Charlie had looked at him askance and asked "You were one of those kids who always wanted a puppy and never got one, aren't you?"_

_ "Still am." Draco replied with a faint smile and one last farewell pat to the dog's head._

Draco looked back at Charlie, grinning, and Charlie beamed back. "Thanks, Charlie." Draco said quietly, and Charlie pulled him into a loose embrace. The puppy squirmed in Draco's arms until his forepaws were resting on his shoulder.

"What are you going to call him?" Charlie asked.

Draco tilted his head in thought, looking down at the puppy, who barked happily, wagging his tail furiously and smacking both Draco and Charlie in the chest. "Hmm… Apollo."


	44. Scholarship

_A/N: I love, love, love this one! Definately one of my favourites. I adore writing post-war!Draco, and the beautiful mixture of cowardice and defiance, and post-war!Narcissa, as in, the one who has her priorities straight, and has to take charge, what with Lucius being completely broken by the war, is an absolute joy to write._

_That, plus the ending, makes me very proud of how this one turned out._

_Word count: 475_

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><p>Malfoy Manor was a very different place to the place Draco had known as a child. Not only did it feel much smaller than it once had, it had lost some of its grandeur, and a lot of its security in his eyes. The atmosphere, too, had changed. No longer were his parents arrogant and self-assured, but broken and beaten. His father more than his mother, Draco had to acknowledge. Narcissa was stronger than her husband in that respect; able to endure where he faltered.<p>

The breakfast table was a subdued place. Lucius barely spoke anymore, and Narcissa maintained a frosty aura. Draco had to wonder how they would react to his news. "Mother? Father?" He spoke up suddenly, shattering the awkward silence. His parents looked at him in surprise, then curiosity. "I've got a scholarship to study at Gringotts." He said as bluntly as he could. "And I'm going to take it." He added before his parents could say anything.

"Why Gringotts?" Narcissa asked, eyes wide.

"I want to be a Curse Breaker." Draco stated firmly.

Lucius opened his mouth, and Draco met his eyes. Something he wouldn't have dared to do only three months ago. Funny how loosing a war you never really wanted to be a part of could change you. After a long moment, Lucius shut his mouth, then ever so slowly, he nodded. "How- How did you get a scholarship? The goblins are extremely picky about that sort of thing." He asked instead, his voice a little unsteady as he felt a bit off-balance due to this conversation.

"I got a good recommendation from another Curse Breaker." Draco said honestly.

Now his parents looked stunned. "Who?" Narcissa asked.

Ah, now they were getting into dangerous territory. Draco looked down at his plate. "Bill Weasley." He said to his French toast.

"How on earth did you manage that?" Lucius asked. Draco was surprised, but pleased, to hear that Lucius sounded impressed.

"I met him while I was doing my Dragon Keeping apprenticeship." Draco answered. "He came to visit his brother, and we got talking. We stayed in touch." He shrugged.

"You've been in touch with a Weasley for three years?" Lucius asked in surprise.

"Oh, don't be naïve, Lucius." Narcissa snapped mildly. "Draco's been more than 'in touch' with a Weasley for _years_." She said, shooting a small smile down the table at Draco, who looked stunned. "Although…" She said slowly, looking a little puzzled. "I was so sure it was the other one… Charles?"

"Charlie." Draco corrected, blushing brightest pink.

"Ah, so I _was_ right." Narcissa announced smugly. "So, when will you invite the young man round for dinner?" She asked, and when Draco just stared at her, she went on. "We really must meet him, Draco, if you're so serious about him. I do hope he's good looking-"

"MOTHER!"


End file.
